The worst hunt
by vamoarribauruguay
Summary: Take place right after DT.I rewrote it all! same plot but this time is well written, new beta, new chapters..
1. Chapter 1

**INTRODUCTION**

"Good job!" The demon-possessed trucker thought to himself as the rig slid to a halt in a cloud of gravel, dust and screaming metal, its nose buried in the side of the black Impala. "Now I just have to exterminate those rats!" He slowly opened the driver's door and was reaching for the shotgun when he heard the voice, loud and clear, in his head. _" Don't! I want to play with them a little more before sending these bastards to hell"_ Nodding, the driver left the shotgun and slid from the cab of the truck, vanishing into the darkness.

Inside the totaled Impala were three fallen hunters, unconscious, bleeding, hurt. Death wanting to spread it doom over them. CCR was still playing in the radio but nobody was listening, nobody could listen. They were abandoned to their destiny, in the middle of nowhere.

Suddenly Sam blinked his eyes, only his instincts making him wake up. Trying to focus his eyes. Too dizzy to think, He couldn't remember anything. _What happened?_ Was his first thought. Turning his head with an effort, he could barely make out the bloody figure beside him. "Oh God!, Dad…" he thought he said it but his mouth didn't want to cooperate with him. Dread washed over him as realization shot through his groggy mind. He twisted as much as possible but couldn't see into the back seat. "Dean!!??" he cried hoarsely, but there was no response from the back seat.

_Okay, Sam, you're awake, get your act together and…Ouch!!… shit! I think my arm is broken and my neck… Just listen…. nope, no sound from Dean or Dad……God, Dean!! He was just a step from dying and now this….this what?? What happened?? Focus Sam!! Stay awake, Dean and Dad need you… That's good, open your eyes and check on your Dad and Dean._ Sam's mind was working fast but his damaged body was slow to respond.

Sam turned his head slightly, feeling his eyes well up with hot tears. "Damn!!" What he saw was more painful that the sudden movement of his wrist. His father, John, lay motionless, slumped beside him in the crumpled Impala. "What have I done??" Sam asked himself. Shaking, dizzy and still unfocused Sam fumbled for John's pulse. It was there. "Thank God!"he whispered. "Dad?... Dad?" Sam called nudging John's shoulder gently. Nothing. Sam wanted to scream. He was feeling so alone and helpless.

Sam forced himself to turn enough to check on Dean but what he saw made him feel sick. Dean was mortally pale and still, too still, slumped against the car door, blood dripped from his lips. Sam couldn't maneuver himself to check Dean's pulse. "Dean??" he finally said in a faint voice, only a low whisper. Sam tried to move, to touch Dean, but he realized he was trapped in the drivers seat. "Fuck!!" he finally yelled. "DEAN?!" Dean remained slumped and motionless.

Sam kicked himself mentally, realizing that he was the only one capable of saving them, saving Dad, saving Dean. He took his cellular phone and called for help. He had only the haziest idea of where they were and couldn't keep the rising hysteria out of his voice when the 911 operator answered. After a few garbled responses to the operator's questions, the phone slipped out of Sam's hand and tumbled to the floorboards where he couldn't retrieve it.

Dizziness washed over him and his head fell back against the seat. _Oh, God!! I killed Dean!_ Sam thought. _Dad could be dying, Dean…..Shit!!_ He wasn't even sure Dean was breathing…_this is all my fault! Me and my special power thing. Me, the children like me and that frigging demon. I killed Dean. I killed Dean!_ How long he lay there, he didn't know but he was pulled from his painful thoughts and overwhelming guilt by the sudden sound of loud sirens and flashing lights.

An ambulance screeched up to the scene. Three paramedics rushed out and gathered around the broken lives of the Winchesters. The car was so totaled they couldn't do much more than reach inside the car to check the passengers to see if they lived. "Hey there!" The EMT by Sam's side of the car reached in checked his pulse. "Hang on, we'll get you out of there in a minute." "Help my dad…my brother…" Sam coughed, his hand grasping the paramedic desperately. "We will, we will…just hold on," the man replied. A fire truck and two police cars roared into sight. " Okay! Hang on! The cavalry is here!!" the EMT said to Sam.

The Chief came over to the shattered black Impala circling it, examining it carefully. "Ok, here fellows!" shouted to the others firemen. " Let's try to get some space for the paramedics to work. Cut open here and here" ordered the Chief hitting the Impala roof with his knuckles. The firemen went to work. After what felt like a lifetime of grating noise and vibration to Sam, they managed to get the drivers door and part of the roof off, being careful not to disturb Sam's position. The paramedics rushed over, two by Sam's side and the other trying to reach John.

"Hey" a paramedic tried to get Sam's attention but Sam's consciousness was waining. " Hey!, hey!…I'm Craig, that's my partner Brad over there and Steven it's in the other side of the car" said Craig, examining Sam. Sam tried to answer Craig's questions but his mind was getting fuzzy. In no time Sam was wearing a neck brace and in his intact hand was an IV. "We are trying to help the others too. Don't worry. The firemen are gonna cut this car and then we'll reach them and take good care of them" said Craig to a groggy Sam. Sam tried to nod but he almost fell forwards and Craig caught him. "Easy tiger!" he said with a worried smile. "Hey!, get a gurney over here!" yelled Craig over his shoulder. Then he turned back to Sam "Just hang on," whispered in his ear. "Hey Chief! Call for a helicopter, this guy in the back looks bad. And call Diana, say we need more paramedics here" Even though Craig was close to Sam his yelled words were muffled sounds. Dim lights moved across his closed eyes. He was so tired. Sam couldn't think past his mind screaming _STOP, I'm fine. Help my Dad, help Dean. It's all my fault, it's all my fault!_ Everything was hurting so much and when the morphine from his IV got into his system he let the cool dark consume him and everything calmed down.

When Sam was placed in a gurney with two new paramedics treating him, Craig and the others rushed to John's side, as the firemen were finishing releasing him. Craig although was extremely worried about the one in the back seat but there wasn't a way to reach him yet. John was still unconscious and bleeding heavily. Looking over the extent of his wounds Brad shifted him out and placed him on a gurney as well. "This one needs a hospital now. Tell the pilot to go to Saint Mary's, it's the closest hospital and to come back immediately, the other one is in very bad shape."

Craig watched Dean carefully, waiting for the moment to reach him. Dean lay as he had the moment the bent car had stopped. Silent, sad and broken. But something more urgent caught Craig attention…… Dean wasn't breathing. Moving between broken seats and parts of the roof he reached Dean neck and felt for a pulse…nothing. "Oh shit! Brad, Steven help me here! No breathing, no pulse. He needs CPR now!!" Ignoring procedure and the firemen shouting Craig climbed out of the front of the car and jumped through the back window. He kicked Dean's door several times while the firemen were trying to cut it open. When the cars door opened Dean slumped out the car. Dean was lowered to the ground and Brad started CPR then and there while the others paramedics were trying to triage him. Brad was trying to breathe life back into him; pump after pump went through Dean's broken body. "Breathe, damnit!" Brad pumped steadily. " Breathe!!" Then a quiet wheezing sound could be heard from Dean. Craig took an oxygen pump and placed it over Dean's mouth, pumping more air into his tired lungs. Dean couldn't make out anything just the fact that fresh air was filling his lungs and he didn't need to use any energy. He doubted he still have any energy in him. It hurt just lying there near the Impala. The pain overwhelmed Dean and the little conscious left in him disappeared. As he freely let the weightlessness feeling of no control consume him, the pain eased instantly.

_**authors notes: this chapter was brillantly written by Teri from Supernatural.tv but i decided to change it a bit. Teri is an awesome writer but her paramedics were a bit off reality so i made them real...all the rest of this chapter belongs to her imagination and a bit of mines too. **_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Three weeks later

Time passed so slowly, yet still seemed to race by. Dean had spent a week in a coma because of a concussion from impact in the crash and the massive blood loss, due to the torture that had taken place in the cabin.

Dean's many other injuries, four broken ribs, temporary heart failure, and critical lung problems kept him in UCI for another week after he came out of the coma.

Sam suffered from a broken left arm and a mild concussion. Physically he was better then his older brother, but mentally, he wasn't sure. All the mistakes he thought he'd made, kept playing through his mind, taking him deeper and deeper into a state of absolute shock.

"My plans for you, Sam," the Demon sneered, "and all the children like you."

That was all Sam heard. No beeping of Deans monitor, no chirp of birds, no squealing of gurney wheels...just that. It was eating at him like acid from the inside. He wanted to run, to leave, it was the only way to save his family. But he couldn't bring himself to leave Dean in his weak, vulnerable state. Besides, it was his fault that Dean lay painfully still in his hospital bed.

Peaceful wasn't the word to describe his older sibling right now. Dean looked so...Sam hated to think it, but, ghostly. Even though Dean was asleep, a pained expression lingered on his face. Like a bad dream, a nightmare. Nothing about Dean was peaceful right now. The paleness and sad expression, had 'ghost' written all over it.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes, trying to ease them from the twisted visions in front of him. But he was only met with more the moment his eyes closed. The crash flashed through his mind, as did the screeching of tires and the smell of burnt rubber. Sam shook his eyes open and rubbed his face in frustration.

He hadn't slept since the crash, unless you could call being involuntarily unconscious _sleeping._ Drugs didn't help either, they made everything more vivid once he shut his eyes. There was no escaping his guilt, so Sam did the only thing he could. Sit, wallow in guilt, and wait.

It felt almost like _Deja vu_. Everything was repeating itself, at least that's what it felt like to Dean anyway. The beeping, the throbbing pain, the silence and awkward moments that passed like molasses between him and his younger sibling. All of it had happened before and kept happening again.

It was getting beyond annoying and was becoming extremely unbearable. And yet, Dean lay, with the silent ghost of his brother keeping watch, slowly, but surely, healing.

Dean knew ways to keep from healing, and ways of staying in the god-forsaken building of diseases and white, but he found he didn't have to will power to hurt that way anymore.

He tried at first...to stop it. He wouldn't sleep, he wouldn't take the drugs. Hell, he'd get out of bed in the middle of the night and walk stumble the halls, wearing himself down, just so he wouldn't have to leave. Just so Sam wouldn't leave. But now, with the look he had, and the strength he seemed to lack...one almost could say he didn't care anymore.

Sam got on his case more then once about those stupid actions, leaving Dean to sulk in his room. At first Sam just thought Dean wanted more attention, from the cute nurses and all that, but soon Sam came to realize, it was something more...something deeper then that.

If their father had left the hospital without a word, it probably would have been better, but as fate had it, he didn't.

Once John had regained consciousness from the crash, he called Sam in. John didn't ask a single thing about Dean what-so-ever, just confessed to Sam, with tears in his eyes, that everything that The Demon said was true, and then was gone the next day. No indication to where he was going, why he left, how to contact him, no "good-bye, sons, take care, I love you"...nothing. Just left.

Sam's relieved expression, when Dean awoke from his coma, couldn't conceal the truth of that conversation 3 weeks ago.

This information, once shared, didn't help Dean's mental state any more then it helped Sam's. They didn't talk for hours on end. Both sat, silent and drowning, in their own tormenting thoughts.

Right now, out of boredom, Dean's thoughts had come to rest on another painful subject. He was torn between kicking the crap out of something and crying. His precious impala had been totaled in the crash, and they hadn't been able to salvage any of it. It tore Dean apart to think what scrap metal place it must have came to rest in. In a pile with all the ordinary, regular rusted and dented piles of useless materials they used to call cars. What a cruel fate for his baby.

"Hey, dude," Sam said, trying to get his older brothers attention, "I was talking to you."

Dean was snapped out of his crazed trance and snapped his head towards Sam. "What? Oh yeah, I totally agree."

Sam gave Dean a disbelieving look. "You're agreeing that you need to buy a little Japanese car?"

"What?" Dean asked in shock. Sam had an uncanny ability to know what Dean was thinking, and to either bring it up in conversation, or act on it. But being the younger of the two, Sam didn't always get what Dean wanted to do right on the dot. He couldn't believe Sam had even _mentioned_ getting another car so soon. "No." Was Dean's final answer.

This being one of the only lighthearted moments the two had shared in a long time, Sam felt it appropriate to laugh.

Dean gave him a dirty look. "It's not funny."

Sam just sat there smiling from ear to ear with his arm crossed and shook his head.

After the moment passed and Sam settled down, both felt the harsh reality of their situation weigh down on their tired shoulders once more.

Not wanting to endure any more, Dean spoke. "Ok, that's it. Help me out of this bed." Dean motioned as he attempted a sitting position.

Sam sprang to Dean's aid, "Where do you think you're going?" he asked in apprehension, at the same time giving Dean a hand.

"I wanna go bungee jumping," Dean answered sarcastically.

Sam shot him a look.

"Hey, I haven't seen the sky for over three weeks now. I want to get out. Why don't you try lying on your back with no hot chick beside you and no coffee for that long, and see how you turn out, hmm?" Dean snapped.

"Okay, okay, point taken," Sam sighed and helped Dean the rest of the way out of bed.

"Get my clothes, will ya? I don't wanna leave looking like this. The ladies out there need a handsome well dressed hunter not a pale hospital ghost in this shit," Dean said, searching the room for his clothes.

Sam thought that was the most accurate description of his brothers appearance at the moment but he would never allow himself to said it a loud.

Sam gathered the clothes he had brought Dean. The ones from the crash were torn and bloody, not to mention cut up when they had him in emergency.

After a most painful time, Dean was finally dressed.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked curiously.

"To get you a wheel chair," Sam answered, halfway out the door.

"No, no. I don't need it." Dean started for the door.

"Dean, I really think you should-"

"I. Don't. Need. It," Dean said defiantly.

Sam saw the look on his brother's face and gave up. With a heavy sigh, Sam walked over and put his arm over Dean, around his shoulders. At first Dean resisted, but the look Sam shot him made Dean's arm fall limp and he let Sam lead him out of the room.

The two hobbled awkwardly along the corridor until they came to a hallway desk. Sam left Dean leaning against the nearby wall while Sam got permission for them to walk the halls.

Walking. That was the only relatively "fun" thing Dean could do in that freaking hospital. Since none of the nurses were female on his floor, which Dean thought was something that Sam had arranged with his doctors in order to let Dean heal without distractions.

_How brotherly of him,_ Dean thought sarcastically.

"Yea, I get to go for a walk. Oh, please take me to the park. Won't you?" Dean asked sarcastically in a child's voice as Sam returned.

"Shut up. This was your idea." Sam hissed, as he took his brothers arm to support him so they could walk together without Dean falling over. "Actually...yes, yes we can go to the park."

Dean looked at Sam. "What'd you have to do to get that?" Dean winked at Sam and looked back at the male nurse at the desk.

"Shut up," Sam scoffed. "You can only go for half an hour."

Dean chuckled, "Guess whatever it was you did...you weren't good enough at it."

Sam rolled his eyes and pulled him a little harder along the corridor. "Jerk."

Dean couldn't resist, "...Bitch."

Dean didn't show it, but he really did want to get out. The one thing he was best at though, besides hunting, was his sarcastic charm in any situation. Sam was getting annoyed with him so he thought he'd better shut up now. He wouldn't be able to make it to the park alone, and he didn't want a male doctor or nurse to help him that's was for sure, Sam was a better choice then any of them.

A few moments passed of Dean's slight gasps and wheezes and even though Sam was beside him, Dean could feel making-sure-he's-ok glances from Sam every few seconds. It was almost worse then when he couldn't see Sam at all and he'd breathed down Dean's neck in worry. Enough was enough. Dean decided to break the brotherly checking-up-on-glances with none other then his old standard...complaining.

"I get locked in a hospital bed for three weeks and get thirty minutes in a park to sit and stare into space," Dean said, annoyed. "What a rip off," he declared, glaring.

"You know, you're lucky the doctors let you out at all." Sam snapped, guiding Dean toward the exit that led to the park area of the hospital grounds where patients who were well enough to enjoy some outdoor air could spend some time.

"Oh, yeah? And why's that?" Dean asked, losing his balance and stumbling over his own feet.

Sam caught him, "Because of that."

Dean scrunched up his face in dismissal, "I'm fine."

"Don't give me that bullshit, Dean. You know you're still weak and need medical attention. You're lungs haven't fully healed and your hearts still-"

"Don't. Yes, I know. Now can you please take me to the damn park?" Dean snapped back.

Sam helped Dean to stand, then steadied him as Dean held his breath and gripped his chest. Dean's face twisted with the pain he felt sting his body, but Sam remained silent. He knew all to well that Dean didn't like to be reminded when he was the damsel in distress and Sam would be damned if he mentioned it again.

Dean did feel like shit, though. His lungs were the worst part. They hungered for air but it was so difficult to breathe, it was almost too painful too even try. With the short, shallow, heaving and gasping he had to do to get a breath, his chest tightened every time, making it even more agonizing. It affected everything. Because of the lack of air, and the trying, it hurt his chest, as well as his already throbbing, oxygen starved head. It made it hard to stand, to keep standing. Everything was just plain painful.

What seemed like a life time later, the brothers reached the hospital park, a small but nicely tended area with benches and walkways winding between low flower beds.

The walk had taken a lot of Dean. With every step he took, he felt like he'd aged twenty years, so it roughly felt he was somewhere over two hundred now. His chest exploded with pain and under-used muscles, so he sat on the bench to catch his breath.

Sam took a place beside him and watched as his older brother's hazel eyes closed from exhaustion. Sam hoped that Dean would be able to make it the whole thirty minutes and the journey back to his room without passing out.

Sam looked at his brother again and thought that Dean was going to faint. Sam cursed himself knowing Dean hadn't been ready for all the movement yet. _Dammit_, thought Sam. _It's always my fault._

It had only been two minutes, not even that, but Sam couldn't take it any longer.

"Dean..." Sam held onto his brother's shoulder. "You don't look so good."

"Yeah, well..." Dean wheezed, "That's because I feel like shit." His words were barely more then a whisper and his eyes remained closed.

Sam was a little taken aback at Dean's candor at how truly felt. "I'm gonna go get you a wheelchair," Sam said, it wasn't a question. Sam waited for an answer, and what he got was Dean obviously losing consciousness.

Dean could barely support himself now, but Sam had to get him back inside and he couldn't carry him, and Dean sure as hell couldn't walk. Sam leaned Dean against the back of the bench and stood.

"I'm going inside to get some help and a wheelchair. Stay here, ok? I'll be right back," Sam said to Dean's pale body, hoping Dean could still hear him.

Sam rushed back into the hospital and shouted to the first nurse he saw.

"Please, I need a wheelchair now!"

" Why? What's wrong? Are you ok?" The nurse looked over Sam with concern.

"It's not me, it's my brother, he's a patient. He's wanted to go outside but he wouldn't use a chair. I think it was too much for him, he started to feel sick," Sam said more urgently.

"Alright, calm down." The nurse hushed Sam and then grabbed a wheelchair from a back room. "Now, where did you say he was?'

Sam quickly guided her to the outside park, and was met with something much worse then a pale, half dead Dean.

"Where is he?" The nurse asked, looking around. "I don't see him."

Sam nearly swallowed his heart then and there. He was gone. Dean was gone.

"Maybe another nurse took him back to his room already?" She asked, trying to give reason to the madness.

"No, they would've had to pass us. We were in the main hall way. This is the closest door." Sam stammered, running his hands through his hair in shock and horrific confusion.

No. He couldn't have gotten up and walked away. Sam knew Dean hated the hospital but even Dean couldn't fake something that real.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, looking around.

"Sshhh!" The nurse held a finger to her lips. "Please don't yell! We may be outside but it's still a hospital."

Sam wanted to yell at her and ask her if she knew what it was like to suddenly lose their only sibling . But he held his tongue and tried to think of where Dean could have gone.

"Maybe someone saw where he went off to," the nurse tried to give an explanation again. "I'll go and ask around." She turned to leave, and Sam quickly followed at her heels.

Sam started to ask every passer by, while the nurse called over the P.A. system Dean's fake hospital name. No response. Well, there were plenty of responses. Plenty of, "No, I didn't see him," and "No, I didn't help anyone by that name," and the worst, "Who's that?"

Sam came to a grim conclusion. There was no way Dean had left under his own power. No, some one had to have taken him.

Soon the security guard for the hospital came, and he started asking Sam a series of repetitive questions.

_Yes, he'd been in a car crash three weeks ago but...  
No, I don't think he would escape...  
Yes, 6´ tall , green eyes...  
No , he's only got me…_

His mind was racing. He barely heard the questions at all. He answered everything truthfully, except his name and the facts about their father. He had to be careful about bringing the police into it now. They could make the whole thing worse than it already was.

Sam answered the questions over and over, and with every question came a flood of memories...

Flashbacks of their childhood, the hunting trips, the Demon talking to and torturing Dean, the crash, the damned hospital weeks, the last few days...the last few hours...the last few minutes...

The security guard promised they would attempt to look for Dean, making their oh-so-meaningless and common, _We'll be in touch_, line. Sam remembered Dean's bleak outlook on cops and sighed now as he was forced to completely agree.

Over an hour and a half since Dean's disappearance, still nothing.

Suddenly, Sam's cell phone rang...

**Authors notes: i´m changing a bit all the chapters waiting for my beta to send me back the new ones. R&R always wanted**


	3. Chapter 3

"Hello?" Sam asked, hesitantly.

"Hi Sammy. How are you?" An unfamiliar voice replied softly.

"..Who is this?"

"I'm your new best friend, Pete." The voice stated as matter-of-factly.

"Pete? I don't know anyone named Pete." Sam replied, confused.

"Handsome Deanie does," Pete said darkly. "He knows me quite well."

"What? Dean? You know my brother?" Sam asked instantly, curious as his insides twisted with renewed hope...and burning worry.

"Yes, little Sammy. We were talking about you just a minute ago."

There was silence and then Pete calmly spoke, "He really loves you...but do you love him?"

"If you touch one hair on my brother I'll-" Sam began furiously, but was cut off.

"Oh, c'mon, Sammy. That was a very nasty thought you just had right there. I do believe you were a nice little boy," Pete mocked darkly.

Sam bit his lip to keep from screaming into the phone, "What do you want?"

There came no reply, just static.

"My brother's very sick. He needs medical attention and drugs for his heart. Please..." Sam begged, near tears, "What do you want?"

"Aw, little Sammy's afraid of the dark and wants his teddy bear back," Pete laughed into the phone.

Sam was feeling sick, this conversation was going nowhere. How did he even know Dean was still alive?

"I want to talk to Dean. I want to know that he's okay," Sam said, trying to hold back the threatening tears and sound strong.

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that. Deanie boy is taking a nap right now...we played a lot earlier." Pete's childish mocking tone echoed in Sam's pounding ears. It was as if a child had Dean for ransom and Sam was completely at his mercy. This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

"What did you do to him?! Leave him alone!" Sam yelled into the phone, losing his temper. Again, no answer came from the other end of the phone, this lack of communication didn't help Sam's anger, but he was desperate now, "I'll do what you want but leave my brother alone!"

"Now we're talking," Pete's voice lightened immensely. "It's very simple. You have something I want and I have something you want. How do you feel about an exchange?"

"But.. I don't have anything..." Sam said, trying to think.

"Sam, Sam, _SAM_. Think a bit harder." Pete went quiet for a moment, giving Sam a chance to think. "Okay, lets play a game. I'm thinking about something that starts with CO and ends with LT..."

"The colt? But I don't have it," Sam said quickly, unable to stop himself. He was worried even more, now that he had nothing to bargain with, now that Pete knew as well. "My father took it when he left and I don't know where he is now."

"Sammy, you are so boring! Think harder about this exchange and I'll call you back." Click

Unable to get a word out before the dial tone, Sam sat in the nearest chair, feeling extremely sick. He felt light headed from the held back tears and his throat burned from yelling. Emotionally exhausted, he laid his head on his knees and stuck his hands in his hair, holding his head.

Sam was overwhelmed. This was too much for him. Too much for his torn and tattered heart. His mother's death, a normal childhood stolen from him, any chance at a normal life, dying with his girlfriend, his Dad getting possessed by the thing that's tormented his family his whole life, The Demon in their Dads body torturing Dean, the crash, Dean in a coma, Dad leaving for the second time, Dean kidnapped without medical attention...and it was all his fault. All of it.

He was the cause of everything bad that'd happened to his family. All because he was weak, because he wasn't normal, because a demon wants his soul and the fact that the Demon doesn't care what he has to do to get it.

With all this, Sam was paralyzed. He couldn't think, he couldn't even move. So...he cried. His hands found their way from his dizzy head to his clammy, tense face, were he let the bitter tears freely fall from his sore, burning eyes into his empty hands.

Soon Sam's moment of guilt stricken grief was interrupted by the helpful nurse from earlier that day.

"Sam?" The nurse approached him, concerned, "What happened, sweetie?"

"I found my brother," Sam half lied, gathering composure and gaining control of his emotions. "He's with a friend of ours."

"Stupid brother you have. Why didn't he call you?" The nurse replied, a little repulsed by Deans actions, or lack thereof.

"My brother's not stupid. He was just too tired to call me," snapped Sam.

"Okay, okay," the nurse said, surrendering. "I'll tell the guards you've found your brother."

Sam was done crying. He was angry now. Angry with himself for being so stupid, so pathetic. He couldn't help Dean by crying and now was a critical, if not _THE_ most critical time Dean needed him. Dean needed the smart Sam, not the sissy, weak, pathetic boy that had been crying his valuable time away sitting there.

_Think, Sam, think! _Sam knocked his head with his plaster cast. _Think man!  
_  
Sam took a deep breath, stood up and then fell again, back into the chair, as hopeless as ever. But, in that moment of pure hopelessness, came a loud military voice screaming in his mind.

_C´MON SOLDIER, YOUR BROTHER NEEDS YOU! YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE THAT CAN HELP HIM. C´MON YOU WUSS! STAND UP!  
_  
And like a man who's just had a gun shoved to his back, Sam stood.

_NOW SOLDIER, YOU HAVE TO GO TO DEAN´S ROOM, RETRIEVE ALL HIS STUFF, GET ALL HIS NEEDED DRUGS AND THEN GO TO YOUR HOTEL ROOM. C´MON! GET TO IT!  
_  
He didn't know how long he had until 'Pete' called back, so he ran. Sam ran and ran, all along the corridor.. With each stride his mind became clearer, and he could think and act again. With each step all his doubts left him, with each step one single thought became stronger and stronger, like an obsession: rescue Dean.

Dean needs you. He's in pain because of you. He's been kidnapped because of you. You did all of this to him, but now...you are his last hope.

Shortly, Sam entered Dean's room and put all his things in a small bag, next he went in search of Dean's doctor.

Once found, Sam lied to the doctor, telling him about a friend that had a private clinic and how it offered to do Dean's rehab. But, they needed to know what kinds of drugs Dean was taking and needed a few samples of each as well.

To Sam's good fortune and great relief, the doctor explained to him about the seven different types of drugs Dean was currently taking, three for his heart, two antibiotics and two more that Sam couldn't remember what they were for (thankfully the bottles he was given had labels on them) and of course, the inhalers for Dean's extremely damaged lungs.

Sam wrote it all down (just in case) in Dean's journal, gathered his paper work, said his thanks and good-byes, and quickly made his way back to his hotel room.

Almost as soon as Sam walked in the door, he got sick. He rushed to the bathroom and threw up. As he sat there, still feeling rather nauseous from the recent events, he heard the thundering voice again...

_C´MON SOLDIER! DON´T THROW UP! SOLDIERS DO WHAT THEY HAVE TO DO WITHOUT THINKING AND WITHOUT FEELING. YOU MUST FIGHT YOUR FEELINGS. YOU DON´T NEED A HEART NOW, YOU ONLY NEED YOUR BRAIN AND GUTS.  
_  
Sam left the bathroom, throwing his heart in the toilet, and choking down whatever else it was he didn't get the chance to get out.

He dropped on the side of the bed, picked up the room phone, and dialed.

_Ring, ring..  
_  
A voice began to speak...

"This is John Winchester's cell. If you need me, leave a message after the beep...As for my sons, I have only one now. One really let me down, and I have no use for him anymore. Good-bye Sam. click

The voice mail ended.

Sam sat there, stunned, in shock. But this was something to think about later, with Dean by his side. OR, even better; John Winchester is dead now for you Sam, concentrate on Dean, he's your only family now.

Sam shook it off and picked up the phone again, dialed, and it rang.

Unfortunately, even though Bobby picked up, he told Sam he was up in Alaska on a hunting trip. He said the regular _"Sorry I can't help you, I'm always here though"_ spiel, but that still left Sam right where he'd started, in desperation.

He grabbed their dad's, now Dean's, journal and called every seemingly suitable, appropriate number in it he could find. Nothing. No one, not ONE person could help him.

Sam stood abruptly, frustrated, aggravated and lost. He strained his aching head to think. Think, that's what he had to do, and he couldn't do it for the life of him. He couldn't think...not even for the life of Dean.

In his agonizing circles around the room, the voice started again.

_SOLDIER, DON´T GIVE UP. IF A FELLOW NEEDS HELP WE MUST HELP! WE DON´T LEAVE OTHER SOLDIERS BEHIND!  
_  
Then, it dawned on him. He rushed to the phone and quickly dialed.

"Hello?"

"Hi, M-Missouri?" Sam stuttered.

"Well, hi, sugar." Missouri's voice beamed over the phone.

Sam half smiled, relieved to hear her cheerful from his call. "Uh, I...I was wondering if you could help me..."

"Oooh, honey, you know I can't meddle. And I can't pull things out of thin air."

"But I haven't-" Sam started, confused.

"Sam, I'm a psychic, remember?"

Sam didn't say anything for a moment, he felt kind of stupid, and if Missouri would have been there, she would have seen Sam's bright red cheeks and the roll of his eyes.

"Well, you know everything that's happened now, and no doubt you've heard about dad..."

"Yes..." Missouri replied solemnly. "Sometimes I just can't understand that man.." She said thoughtfully, but more to herself then to Sam.

Sam tried to ignore the last part and continued, "And Dean...I need to find him, but I-"

"Sam, I've told you, I can't pull things out of thin air. And I certainly don't have the Colt. I haven't spoken with your father since the time you boys came home to visit, and he most certainly hasn't spoken to me," Missouri said sadly.

Sam sat, hit by a wave of sadness, then refocused. "Have you...do you know anything about.." Sam couldn't say his brothers name, it had become too hard. Every time he tried, it was as if it got stuck in his throat, but thankfully, he didn't have to say it.

"Dean?" Missouri asked, innocently.

"Ya.." Sam swallowed his emotions.

"He is alive."

Sam let go of the breath he'd been hanging on to and ran a hand through his hair, feeling relieved. But that was soon taken back.

"He's alive, but honey..." Missouri paused, afraid to go on, Sam listened intently as Missouri continued. "I..I've seen a lot of pain."

Sam hushed his screams and bit his lip, a wave of adrenaline washed over him. _No!_ He thought.

"I need to know where he is Missouri," Sam said urgently. "Where is he?"

"I don't...I can't tell you..." Missouri said sadly...

"What?" Sam asked, surprised. "Why not?"

"Honey, you must be strong now. Know that even in the darkness we can find the road to the light...But we need to have hope and faith in our hearts." Missouri's words were firm, not to mention confusing to Sam, but some how, still comforting. He didn't give any indication to Missouri about that part though, he just got frustrated and sarcastic with her.

"Pretty...but that doesn't help!" Sam's voice boomed. "I don't understand Missouri."

"Not now," Missouri said calmly, ignoring Sam's frustrated outburst, "But you will. Remember them for the future. You'll understand then."

Sam let out a exasperated sigh, "Ok, thanks, you reeeaaally helped a lot." He answered sarcastically, and started to hang up but heard her loud voice and snapped it back to his ear.

"Don't you take that tone with me young man! Don't you dare. You asked me for help and I gave what I could," Missouri reprimanded Sam furiously. "You must remember Dean. Dean is your future." She calmed down as she finished.

"Of course he is, he's my present and my past too." Sam said, calming down.

"No Sammy, your present isn't Dean, I'm afraid."

"Again, what are you talking about?' Sam asked, temper rising again. This was getting ridiculous.

"I must sound like an old loon just singing to the wind, but remember them, Sam." Missouri pleaded, "Please keep faith and hope in your heart and all will change. Bye sugar."

Missouri hung up before Sam had a chance to respond again, and he didn't understand a damn thing she said. How was this going to help? Then he remembered the last thing she said...something about faith and hope in his heart. Then he remembered his heart, the one he threw up in the toilet, the one he flushed and vowed not to use. He was already off to a rocky start.

Sam didn't understand a single word of what Missouri had told him. That rubbish didn't have any logic, or make any sense what-so-ever. Why? Why did it always have to be in the future? Why did it always have to be so friggin' hard.

The youngest lay down on his bed, hopeless, helpless, utterly lost, and totally confused. Everything was so quiet. Even the military voice had subsided, or at least lay dormant for now. One might even say he missed it because he was completely alone now, and without an object to bargain with for Dean, Sam was overwhelmed by his thoughts.

In that moment of stinging silence Sam remembered what his father had done when Meg wanted the colt, he got a fake one. Sam could do that, he could buy a fake colt and...wait, his dad got captured and was beaten mercilessly after they found out it wasn't real. Thinking twice Sam decided against it.

Perhaps the book on demonology that Bobby gave them could be traded to...no, that would be stupid. Giving a clearly evil person the book on demons, yes that's it, Sam, give them ULTIMATE power over evil.

Bravo.

_Ring!   
_  
Sam's cell phone went off, startling the focused Winchester. He picked it up, hesitant.

"Hello?" Sam's unsteady voice echoed in the static phone.

"Hi, Sammy boy, how are you? Even better, how's my colt?" Pete's sarcastic tone shot through Sam's cell. "You do have it...don't you?"

Sam closed his eyes, feeling a wave of bitter sickness wash over him. "No..." Trying to buy time and think, Sam corrected himself, "Not yet."

"I'm disappointed in you, Sammy. Dean will be too. Especially now that the pain killers are wearing off."

"I said not yet!" Sam repeated, almost shouting. "A friend is getting it for me." Sam lied. "Please, I'll give it to you, but leave my brother alone."

"But then you'd never listen to me, would you Sammy?" Pete asked, knowing perfectly well that it was true. Dean was Sam's reason to listen to him, and he wasn't about to just leave a helpless hostage alone when he was getting what he wanted because the hostage _WAS_ helpless, oh no, that'd just be silly.

Sam ignored this question, but knew, with a heavy heart, that both of them knew it was true. There was silence for a moment, while Sam sat and thought, he wanted his proof now.

"How do I know you're not lying? I want to know Dean's alive." Sam said, calming his bubbling anger.

" 'Kay, hang on."

Sam heard Pete leave the phone's speaker, then, he heard another sound. A scream, it was pure agony, and it was Dean. It echoed into the phone, and took hold of Sam's heart like a hand had just wrenched it from his chest and twisted it. Dean was so close, yet so far away.

More screams and cries of pain emitted from Sam's phone into his ear. All he could think about was that it was his fault. His own fault that this was happening to his older brother. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Stop! Stop it!" Sam screamed into the phone, furiously.

The screams stopped. "But, Sammy," Pete cooed mockingly, "you wanted to know your brother was alive."

Sam fell silent and bit his lip harshly as he tried to hold back his tears and gain composure again.

"If you want to see your dear brother alive, bring the colt to this address: 17 Park Avenue, the garage. You have till 9 o'clock." _Click_

Sam screamed at the top of his lungs, making his hotel neighbors yell back at him. He calmed down, after throwing a few things across the room, and checked the time: 7 o'clock. It was that late already. He had two hours to find the Colt and be at the garage. But where was it? Where was his...ex-father? He couldn't even begin to look, there was no time. Sam sighed, frustrated and then decided his last, and only option was to buy a fake colt.

Sam knew it wasn't a brilliant plan, and it would probably get him in serious shit, but that's all fate had dealt him, and he had to play his hand.

The youngest Winchester pulled out a brown bag that had been hidden under his bed, and started collecting different weapons. It was a relief that after the crash, the police didn't know about the secret compartment in the trunk, and Sam was able to retrieve all their undamaged, usable weapons before it was sent to a scrap metal disposal. As for the box of fake ID's, a call to Bobby and they mysteriously disappeared from the police's evidence storage room.

Sam grabbed a knife, a shot gun, and a few other essentials, put his jacket on and went outside to get a cab.

Half an hour later, Sam stood outside an antique shop, regaining control over his heart rate and prepared himself for what it was he had to do.

He took a long deep breath and mentally repeated, Dean needs you, Dean needs you...

He hated to do it, he hated to think of the scars he'd leave people, but it needed to be done. Sam placed a black mask over his head, took out the gun, and went in.

Screams would have been heard had anyone been around, but to Sam's luck, no one came. He didn't have enough money to buy a 'real' fake colt, so he asked as politely as a robber could.

Fifteen minutes to nine Sam arrived outside the garage on 17 Park Avenue, with the fake colt, breathing heavily behind a tree as he tried to come up with a plan if 'Pete' should fail on his part of the bargain.

Then the voice began to shout again:

_SOLDIER! YOU ARE A SCREW UP! YOU DON´T KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE INSIDE, WHERE YOUR BROTHER IS, EVEN IF HE'S STILL ALIVE. HOW DO YOU PLAN TO GET HIM OUT OF THERE WITH A FAKE COLT?!  
_  
It stopped suddenly when Sam heard footsteps.

"Sammy?" A voice asked.

Sam stepped out from behind the tree, bracing himself.

"Ah, it IS you, Sammy boy." A man of about 30 spoke, continued to walk closer with an eerie smile on his face. "You came early."

"Are you Pete?" Sam asked firmly.

"Why yes, yes I am," Pete nodded as his smile widened. "Nice to finally meet you."

Sam sneered, he was tense and his temper was rising again. "I wish I could say the same thing." Sam replied sarcastically.

"Ouch," Pete placed a hand over his heart, sarcastically, "That hurt."

"Where is my brother?"

"Oh, hush now, Sam. Don't worry so much, he's in good hands." Pete smiled wickedly.

Sam's anger took over and got the best of him. He lashed out and grabbed Pete, his broken arm in Pete's torso, while the other held a knife to Pete's neck.

"Where..is..my brother?" Sam asked again.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy." Pete said, giving Sam a disappointed look, "Don't be stupid. You know the possessed aren't afraid of knives."

With a quick movement Pete hit Sam, who fell to the pavement with blood on his lips.

"Sam..." Pete bent over him, "Where is the Colt? And I don't mean that pathetic, rusted, old piece of junk you brought. The real one, where is it?"

"I've told you, my..." Sam hesitated to say it, "father has it." Sam restated, brushing the blood of his lips and pushed back tears.

Pete saw the pain he was in, "Awww, Sammy boy, don't cry. I'm gonna tell you a little secret." Pete knelt down real close to Sam's ear, "I didn't want the colt...I wanted you."


	4. Chapter 4

"Geezus...kill me now." Dean groaned as he swayed on the stone bench. He was angry with himself for being so weak. Being angry didn't help his issues with breathing. Looking around, his vision flickered in and out now and then, like a bad light bulb as Dean tried to stay conscious for Sam.

All Dean could do to stay awake was hang limply on the thought of Sam. Dean was the older brother and this sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen to him. He was supposed to be able to go outside for five minutes and not almost pass out. He was supposed to always be there for the younger one, to protect him, to help him, and now HE was the one waiting for a wheelchair. What absolute crap.

Dean wasn't used to the taste of helplessness and he reluctantly wallowed in it as he waited for Sam, mentally bruising himself with thoughts of his failure and current weaknesses. Save Sam, save dad, save the family, save as many people as you can. That was always Dean's mantra, doing what he had to do to help them, regardless if it meant he was going to get hurt or even killed.

The eldest of two wasn't just mad at himself though. He was mad at his father for being...well, his dad. The same man who was so obsessed with revenge, that he forgot to live, or even let his own flesh and blood live. He was just completely bent on hunting that was it. Nothing else seemed to matter, just killing this Demon.

On second thought, though, Dean figured he would have done the same thing. Leave. He wasn't much use right now, just an obstacle, something for Sam to worry about and Sam didn't need anything else to think about right now. It would be better with him out of the way. But Dean couldn't give into his physical state, he wouldn't, he wanted to be in this fight.

Dean had never had reality hit him like this before. It was almost too much. Sure he'd gotten into some messy situations with dire consequences with Sam before but, nothing like this. Nothing that hurt this much.

The moment he woke in that hospital, Dean felt as if his life had been sucked away by something more vicious then a succubus. The truth, told by stern, almost soulless, men in white.

He could remember clear as crystal, the doctor talking to him in private, on that cold and lonely afternoon.

"You'll be close to fully recovered by this time next year. IF you take your pills that is...and do your rehab and live a quiet, peaceful life." The doctor said lightly, trying to make the drugs and rehab sound less like a punishment and more of a good-thing-to-do.

Dean just lay in his hospital bed, breathing shallowly, wishing he had died in the crash instead of losing the rest of his life, without actually dying. He felt like an innocent, being condemned by Satan himself, to spend the rest of his days on the demon infested planet, alive and well, but without power to do anything to stop them.

"Take my advice. Meet a girl, get married, get a eight to five desk job, have some kids and you should have close enough to a normal, regular life." The doctor finished, patting Dean's one, unharmed leg.

A normal life? What was that? Kids? Wife? How could ANY of that be what could keep him alive for fifty more years? If anything, Dean saw it as a bigger weight and worry than going after the thing that did this to him alone! Stupid doctors, they didn't have a clue.

The eldest hunter felt discouraged enough already, but couldn't help but ask about sports and exercise. By sports he meant hunting trips, but the doctors would never get what he meant if he had asked that. Unfortunately the answer was the same. No.

Well, they didn't just say no. They said something more along the lines of: "Of course you can exercise. Things like swimming. But I wouldn't recommend running, or lifting heavy things, or doing anything really cardio focused."

"But isn't it good to start to build up strength again?" Dean had asked.

"Yes, but you have to be extremely careful to not over work it. If you do, the results could be fatal." The doctor had warned.

Those were the harshest words Dean could have heard at that moment. Even harsher than the line "You're dying." He'd gotten that one before, he could handle it again. Besides, dying just meant he had the choice to live the last few days of his life to the fullest. But this, this was just torture.

Coming back from that painful memory, Dean had another thought. He'd held back Sam from killing the demon, not once, but twice. A pang of regret pulsed through his aching body. If only he'd done something. If only he'd let Sam do it. Sam would be so happy now, instead of being tortured with guilt, and this would all be over. If only...

His guilty, angry thoughts were interrupted suddenly, by a kind voice, and Dean jumped slightly as a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Do you need some help?" a soft, deep voice asked.

"Uh, no, thanks. I'm waiting for my brother. He should be coming back soon," Dean said weakly, trying to focus his vision on the figure in front of him.

"Ok, but I've been watching you for a while now, and I don't think your brother is coming back," the voice said with it's deep tone, and Dean deemed it to be male.

Dean paused for a moment, surprised, "No, he's coming," Dean said, sure that he was.

"Maybe I'm wrong but, I think I saw him take a taxi, roughly 20 minutes ago."

Dean let his surprise and disbelief show to the stranger. He sat there, stunned. This couldn't be true, it can't be. Sam just wouldn't do that. Something must have happened. This man was lying.

_Roughly 20 minutes ago? Had it been that long? No..._

"My brother, he..." Dean stuttered, trying to find the words.

"Oh, I didn't mean to upset you. You just looked like you were in so much pain, I thought I'd lend a hand. Just in case he really did leave and doesn't come back."

The eldest head pounded with questions and desperate pleas. He could help, he wasn't totally useless. Sam wouldn't leave, would he? That's what Sam had always wanted, but now? Not now, no.

It was too much. Unconsciously, Dean's mind let go of reality and slipped into a more peaceful state of mind, like a coma. Dean abandoned his thoughts and fled into the shadows of unconsciousness, were he thankfully stopped worrying, stopped feeling, stopped trying to grasp hope, just stopped thinking all together.

------------------------------------

Dean's eyes opened, but he was met with pitch black.

_Okay, so you're awake. This is good,_ Dean thought optimistically_. But do you know where you are? No. Do you know how you got here? No. Do you know where you were before you got here? Nnn.. Wait!_ Dean dug through his hazy thoughts, trying to piece fragments together.

Yes, he remembered...slightly. He was at the hospital, waiting for Sam outside, on a stone bench. But, this wasn't the stone bench anymore, and it sure in hell wasn't outside of the hospital either.

The eldest Winchester lay in a completely black room, on the dirty floor no less, and tied up, to his dismay. His legs and hands were bound tightly. Something really didn't want him getting away.

Dean searched his mind again, trying to see if he could remember how he came to be in this shit hole. Then he remembered the male voice, telling him that Sam had left, that he'd taken a cab no less. Dean remembered the man offering to help, and that he thought he was lying. That's where everything really blurred.

His heart nearly skipped a beat when he thought of Sam leaving him again. No, that man had to be lying.

Dean brushed off what he remembered about it, and decided it was better to focus his attention on getting untied.

_Think dammit. Think! It's just ropes for crying out loud, and you're Dean!_ Dean struggled around on the floor for a moment, fidgeting with the ropes, making his wrists raw and his lungs ache. _This isn't working, bright eyes. Stop making so much noise. You need to calm down, think of a plan, and SHUT UP._

Dean stopped moving and lay still, thinking some more. A bunch of serious questions came to his attention in the silence. _What time is it? What day is it? How long was I out? Where is Sam? Who was that man? WHERE AM I?_

Then, the other part of Dean's panicked brain interrupted. _Okay, shut up, and listen! You are a hunter, you need to focus on finding clues, on a way out, stuff like that! Not the stinging, burning pain in your lungs, or the lingering- Shut up!_ Dean's head fought back but finally caught on, deciding to tune in his ears to see if he could hear anything.

Surprisingly enough, Dean DID hear something. A man's voice, but very soft, and very far away. Dean could tell by the way the voice was speaking, that he was talking into a phone and by the fact that there was a lack of another voice. Dean strained his ears to hear what it was he was saying, and to whom he was talking to.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy..." The voice trailed back to him.

_Sam!_ Dean's neck snapped to look in the direction of the voice. Still pitch black. Immediately Dean thought of Sam's weakness, him. Dean was part of a stupid 'plan', using HIM as bait to get to Sam. Great, just peachy keen! Dean then realized that the voice sounded familiar. It was the man at the hospital!

Dean ignored his annoying brain now and just flipped his instincts on to 'hunter mode'. He started tossing and turning on the ground, attempting to loosen, well, just about anything.

_Yes!_ Dean shouted in his head as a hand was released, that was all he needed. A few moments later he was loose, but all the concentration and movement had really exhausted him. _No, not now Dean, later! Later! Instincts and stuff, stick with 'em. You can do this! You've gotta get outta here, and get to Sam before that sick bastard does! Get up!_

He managed to convince himself that he was truly capable and indestructible. He was Dean Winchester and he would do anything for his baby brother. Unfortunately, in this case, the mind was willing but the body was weak.

Dean got to his feet and then collapsed as quickly as he had stood, he had fainted.

Light, joy, it was all around him. Dean was completely immersed in the brightest light he'd ever seen. He could not only see it, but also feel it. It was almost as if he could reach out and touch it, that it'd be real.

It was the warmest, most peaceful thing Dean had ever felt. Dean eventually was at a loss of words, and just let the light overwhelm him. The light dimmed and he could see a beautiful garden with an assortment of flowers, a seesaw, and a swing.

Music danced around, low and soft, but happy and full of life. The music was then drowned out by bubbling laughter. It was as if the whole world was laughing at the same time. But it wasn't sinister or cruel, it was pure joy and there wasn't a care in the world.

Out of the laughter a voice sounded above the rest. It called his name. It beckoned him with soft cooes and Dean felt as if the voice was someone's arms, welcoming him in.

"Dean, Dean, come with me." The soft voice echoed.

Dean was looking for the source of the voice, but flowers and lushes plants were everywhere, making it difficult to find.

Then, he saw her. Her long golden hair shimmering, her sparkling eyes, her smile. She sat in the grass, waiting for him, laughing and singing.

_Mom..._

Dean ran to her. He was a young boy again, her baby in her arms, and it felt so right. It was bliss, he could have called it paradise. To feel that kind of love, to see her smile again, to be with her, Dean was overwhelmed.

The 4 years old and his beloved mother rolled around together on the grass, picking flowers and throwing them about. He was so happy, she was so happy, nothing was wrong, nothing to worry about, just a boy and his mothers love.

In an instant it was gone.

Cold, damp darkness hit Dean like rock salt fired from a shotgun. Sadness, pain, grief, regret, guilt, it all came rushing back. Including 2 words: _Get up._

With the shock of the sudden reality check, Dean felt hopeless and lay on the ground for a while, trying to gather composure and a plan. He had to get up, to get out, to tell Sam, to save him. Just thinking about that was draining for Dean.

The eldest brother was fully alert now, conscious, but wincing in aching pain. Then Dean came to realize, he wasn't completely alone anymore.

"Deanny boy, wake up. Wake up sleepy." A voice came cooing.

Dean lay perfectly still, covered by the loose ropes, hoping whoever it was, wouldn't be able to tell he was free.

"Wake up!" The voice shouted impatiently, as a foot connected with Dean's chest.

A scream escaped Dean, and he scrunched into a slight ball as he quivered from the unexpected pain.

"Oh, sorry, did that hurt?" the voice mocked, "Get up."

Dean gritted his teeth, he couldn't give the bastard any satisfaction, but it was difficult breathing enough, without being kicked in the he chest.

_Dammit Dean. Don't give that son-of-a-bitch what he wants. Breath! Stupid lungs, c'mon! BREATHE!_

"What...do...you...want?" Dean managed to choke out, unsuccessful at regulating his breathing again.

"Ooh, a fighter are we? I like that," the voice mused. "I must say, I like the challenge. Much more interesting than that cry-baby brother of tours," said the voice darkly.

"Sam? Where is he!"? Dean ignored his recent injury and shot upright, standing, straining to see into the darkness. He would have taken a swing, but he still couldn't see anything.

"Take it easy, tiger." Mocked the voice, as if the voice could see Dean's every move. "I haven't touched Sammy...yet."

Dean couldn't take it anymore and kicked into the darkness, picking up some rope and twisted it around his hands.

"Hey, maybe I don't have to, that's up to you." The voice continued, "All YOU need to do is tell me what I want to know, and we'll call it even."

Dean swallowed hard. He was in agony. He couldn't breathe, his heart was pounding, which wasn't good, and it made him extremely light headed, which wasn't good either. He had to save Sam though, so he had no choice.

"What do you want to know?" Dean asked, still trying to catch his breath.

"Oh, just a little thing," the voice said conversationally.

Dean waited impatiently for exactly what the "little thing" was.

"The Colt and the bullets."

"I don't know where the hell that is. I was in the friggin' hospital in case you didn't notice." Dean snapped back, gesturing to his bandages to the darkness. "You were there..." he added, glaring.

A crack was heard as another kick connected with Dean. The kick was so hard this time, that Dean fell back to the floor and his head hit concrete, all consciousness leaving Dean in that moment.

The smell of salt filled Deans nostrils, and the sound of seagulls could be heard over the thundering ocean surf. The cool ocean breeze whipped about his hair and he could feel the bumpy, gravel like surface of the rock underneath him. Dean marveled at the transparency and warmth of the water as he placed his feet into the sea.

He sat, content as could be, throwing bits of the rock into the waters sparkling surface, as the seagulls flew so low they could also touch the water with their spread wings.

An early morning sun shone, brilliantly, in the nearly cloudless sky. It illuminated the water in such a way, that Dean could tell no one was out enjoying the waves.

There was just a boy, making holes in the sand with a plastic spade. A smiling boy around four years of age, with brown hair and green tinged eyes. There was a man too, fishing just off shore on a dock, singing a fisherman's tune.

That song made the little boy laugh, and his laugh was like a sirens song, so bewitching to hear. The weight that had been crushing Dean's heart was immediately lifted and he felt so relieved. Sam was happy, he was happy, their dad was happy. What more could he want?

Dean ran with his eight year old legs, straight to Sammy. He was so happy Sammy was okay. Dean wanted to hug him and tell Sam everything, but he was so young. Instead, once he reached Sam, Sam offered Dean a spade and they started building sand castles together, happy.

Nothing could ruin this, he was indestructible again. He was with his family, and they were happy.

In a cold moment, it was all torn away for the second time.

_GET UP!_ Dean's head screamed in disapproval at the moment of bliss. _You need to stop this. Get a hold of yourself and find Sam!_

Reluctantly, the peaceful dream lingered and then finally left altogether, leaving Dean alone again, in that hole from hell. Little by little Dean regained consciousness and found himself lying on that same cold, dirty floor, in that same dark, lonely room.

He couldn't move though. It hurt just to lay there and breathe.

_You have to find SAM! _His head screamed at him. _But I can't. I can't move, I'm broken._

A younger, more vulnerable side of Dean seemed to be arguing now. This was good, because this wasn't what he was supposed to do. He was twenty-six now, not six, not eight...twenty-six.

Regardless of his best efforts, Dean shattered. A wall was breached and a form of emotion, more or less unknown to him, was released.

Dean nearly choked trying to keep it down, but the tears could not be stopped. The hot emotion flowed like rivers from his crystal hazel eyes and Dean covered his face, ashamed of himself.

Big brothers don't cry, let alone MEN. Worrying like a mother was bad enough for him, now he had to cry like one too?

He closed his eyes, feeling light headed and sick again. He just wanted the pain to be over, for it to all stop, just ended and go away.

Dean's guilt-rich tears were suddenly interrupted as he heard the voice again. He swallowed the tears as best he could and mentally prepared himself to lunge at anything he could hear move.

But the voice was farther away, like the first time, and it was speaking on the phone again. Dean heard Sam's name, something about himself, all the while the voice was growing closer and closer.

A door opened, and Dean could see only "the voices'" silhouette standing there. By what Dean could make out, he was a tall man, but that was pretty much it, seeing as how Dean was lying on the ground and in the dark.

The man was silent and walked with defiant steps over to the anxious, eldest brother. Dean was trembling, he didn't know why, maybe it was the cold, maybe it was his fever, or maybe it was the fact that Dean didn't have any idea what this figure wanted.

The man knelt beside Dean, the shadows covering his features, masking his identity from Dean. With one hand, he placed the phone by Dean's mouth. In the other hand, Dean saw a glint, a flicker of metal, and then a numbing, stinging, burning sensation penetrated his leg and screamed through the rest of his body making his head swim.

He didn't have time to even think of what he could do before the cold steel blade of a hunting knife was put in his leg and twisted, not once, not twice, but three times.

Dean screamed in agony as he felt the tendons and muscles in his leg rip and separate. Red immediately began to soak the jeans around the wound. Dean couldn't see anything now, even with his eyes wide open in terror, but, he could still hear. Heard Sam's voice shouting on the phone. And he heard...Sam was coming. _No,_ Dean thought, terrified, _NO!_

Then his vision went blurry, then black and he was out again.

The impala roared down the endless highway, with the window down, the music blaring, and the eldest Winchester brother, calm behind the wheel.

Singing along, tapping his fingers on the outside of the door, to the beat of the ACDC rhythm, life was good.

Sitting shotgun was his little brother, Sammy. That was his whole family right there, his reason to live, sitting right next to him, with his fingers in his ears and singing "Genie in a bottle" by the infamous Christina Aguilera. Life was still good, besides that song part.

It was just a regular day, with regular bug-your-brother-to-death moments. The contest: How much can you bug your brother with music? The prize: Bugging your brother the most and, well, being the winner. Sam unfortunately won this round, by singing "Who let the dogs out" by the oh-so-wonderful Baha men. Sam had sung it so loud, that the ONLY car that had passed them for miles, of course heard. From the looks they gave the brothers, it was a winner, so Dean caved in then and there.

Dean couldn't have been happier though, he laughed the 'you're crazy' looks away and playfully hit Sam in the arm. Sam just sat there with that goofy grin of his and shook his head, content now to just look out the window. Life was good.

_For the last time, get up!_

Once again, his peaceful whatever you want to call it, was interrupted and ruined by his pounding body, and restless head.

_Sam is coming dude, Sam is COMING, here, now...so get the frick up!_

Dean obeyed his mind this time and tried to stand. He gritted his teeth as he became aware of the rather large _KNIFE_ sticking out of his upper leg. Dean fell back down, and lay there, as still as possible.

_Yes Dean, you're genius. Get up and make your leg bleed more. YES THAT'S IT! ...You should be shot. _Dean mentally kicked the crap out of himself, and lay, in helpless agony, unable to move or think straight.

But now, Sam was coming. Maybe Sam had a plan, Sam was smart. Sam went to collage for crying out loud. It gave Dean hope, and a little faith, if that was possible for Dean. But then again, he was the bait for Sam, this couldn't be good. But surely Sam had to have SOME kind of idea about it all...

Would Sam even find him here? Maybe where Dean was, wasn't were Sam was meant to go. Dean got a head rush just thinking about it. No, Sam was coming, and he was coming here.

Dean couldn't tell if his vision was going again, or if the room got darker. He felt sick, but he was trying not to think about it. Needless to say it wasn't working. He had to stay awake though, he'd really be no help to Sam if Sam had to carry him out. That'd really slow them down.

Suddenly, Dean heard talking. It was all low murmurs and muffled sounds, but it was definitely two people talking.

More muffled talking, then fast footsteps, then a thud.

_Atta boy Sam._ Dean thought, optimistically, almost automatically thinking Sam wasn't the one who was the thud. Still, he felt a little worried, being how HE was the way he was, and the fact that he wasn't supposed to be. Who's to say that, that kind of crappy luck doesn't happen to Sam, right? Dean tried to shake the doubts from his head...second-guessing wasn't Deans favorite mental feature.

Yes! Sam was there, and he was kicking the crap out of that tall, silhouetted son-of-a-bitch. Dean wasn't about to let Sam get all the glory while he sat here in a dark, cold room, oh no. Dean took some of his loose rope and tied it tightly around his leg, he grabbed hold of the handle of the knife and began to pull.

His eyes nearly rolled back into his head, but he managed to keep it together and pull the bastard out. Blood poured from it as the last few inches were pulled out, so Dean quickly ripped some of his shirt, tied it around the wound and then tied more rope around that.

Feeling dizzy now and extremely hot, Dean wiped his forehead and gathered the strength to get up, there was NO way he was going to crawl out of this room. He would limp around until he found the wall, follow it to the door and hope to God it was unlocked. That was the plan.

Just as Dean finally stood, the door swung open and the lights were switched on. Dean's retinas burned from the unexpected amount of bright light, he swayed a bit and covered his eyes.

Dean squinted to see who it was, but it was answered before he could look.

"Dean!" Sam's voice came like an SOS, which it really was.

"Sam." Dean said weakly, swaying a bit more from relief. Sam walked over to Dean and held both of Dean's shoulders, trying to see his face.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, worried and astonished he was actually standing, after what he had heard on the phone he didn't think there'd even be a pulse left.

"Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Dean answered, bringing down his hand to look Sam in the eyes.

"Ah, good."

Then with a swift movement as Sam hit Dean's temple and chest with a metal pipe.

Dean went down.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm too sexy for your love, to sexy for la la laaa." A melody enthusiastic Akitar sang. He was so happy with his new body. Olev was right; with a body like this, he could get anything he wanted. He was tall, handsome, and devilishly clever, not to mention had an irresistible smile, and, had more power then he first perceived. The best bit was, that this body was so complex and twisted, he hadn't even gotten to the really good stuff yet.

On the surface he'd already discovered telekinesis, precognition, and a tanglement of others. But, what he really enjoyed the most was his new baby face, and those lovable puppy eyes. He really COULD get away with anything, and no one would suspect him. Not with this innocent face.

Of course, not all was lollipops and candy canes. He had to share this body with its previous owner and, boy, was that a pain in his new, cute ass. Sam Winchester was a thorn in Akitars side from the very beginning. First, it was the whole I-don't-want-to-be-possessed ordeal (which was totally in vain obviously) and now it was the you-will-not-control-me crappy attitude, which was making things a little difficult for Akitar.

Akitar had a small celebration once he took over Sam's female-magnet body, and had to laugh at the fact that Sam, really had had NO chance. Sam had been a target since he was six months old. He was one of the many children and he WOULD serve Cynahl in his dark army. Akitar kept telling Sam he should feel honored to be a chosen one, but Sam would not hear it.

Unfortunately, Sam, was a fighter, and didn't care if the dark side had "cookies" or not. The rest of his miserable family was the same, if not worse. Cynahl failed every time, because of that stubborn, nosy, protective, smart-ass family.

Cynahl's first attempt at reaching Sam was stopped abruptly as Mary so inconveniently intruded, soon followed by an angry and very stubborn husband, John Winchester.

Since one screw up was all the previously incredulous father of two needed, Sam was forever and always protected by numerous spells and incantations. It was almost impossible to locate him, let alone reach him.

After that night, Cynahl studied and learned all the Winchesters patterns and giveaways, like one would study peoples tell in a poker game. But, even with constant watch, hundreds of temptations and distractions, they stuck together. Fighting and killing anything in their paths, practically untouched.

Vampires, ghosts, demons, NONE succeeded. Even when Sam was around six and he sent an essence-sucking witch that preved on children. With a distraction for their father and Dean being to young to really do anything, John STILL came back in time to rescue little Sam.

Cynahl soon figured out, that the Winchesters where unbreakable together, but broken apart, they were no more then regular people. If he could separate them, they'd be at his mercy. So, Cynahl sent two loyal and eager soldiers to feed off of Sam's longing to be normal, befriend him, and convince him to go to Law School. Thus separating him from his freakishly protective family and finally giving Cynahl a chance.

With the knowledge of Sam's weakness for "normal" and his past history with his father, Sam left for Stanford. Cynahl couldn't have asked for a better outcome. This was just the beginning though. Cynahl had just started and other loses ends needed to be tied. He did however, let himself rejoice (if demons can do such a thing) over his small victory. After all, Sam was the most powerful and important man to be assimilated into his army. Without Sam, he couldn't carry out his plans, but first things first, he still needed to actually get Sam. Preparations for his right hand man were already underway.

A few more small failed attempts at reaching Sam and Cynahl found out he had a bigger problem then first presumed. It wasn't spells and charms that had kept Sam from his grasp, oh no, it was something more powerful then that. Why he didn't realize it sooner he didn't know. But he was sure it was this now. Something he'd always figured the movies had over rated, but he was wrong, again. Love, it was love that was keeping Sam out of harms reach, and Cynahl kicked himself for under estimating it. That was one mistake he would never, EVER, make again.

The Winchester family had proven to be more then a nuisance from the start, fortunately, one was already dead, and the rest were torn and weary from fights. Fights from not only the supernatural, but emotions as well. In that, Cynahl felt where he could break their bounds of love, and protection, and finally get what was truly his, little Sam Winchester.

Cynahl knew, and really didn't mind, that he had to kill Sam's entire family to get to him. It was rather annoying at times, but he thoroughly enjoyed seeing those whom he hated in pain.

John, the leader of their pack, was determined, but weak nonetheless. While he was with his sons, he let his guard down and often felt the consequences after. Though, with Sam there, that dumb luck would kick in and they'd survive another day.

Dean, now he was the bigger issue. He was the eldest, the big brother, the protector, and that's exactly what he did. Even though he and Sam had their fair share of fights that damn thing called "love" always managed to keep them together.

This wasn't good news. Dean was a major obstacle in Cynahl's plan, and he needed to be removed. Dean, thankfully to Cynahl's knowledge, had his mind set that he was supposed to look after Sam, when really, his purpose was much more then that. But he had no idea about the real deal, and neither did Sam.

Never the less, Deans lack of knowledge didn't effect the fact that be needed to be killed. After plotting and much thought into the matter, Cynahl, to his great grief, found out that Sam's overwhelming powers only developed when he was with his brother.

Deeper examination of the brothers relationship, and the reason why Sam's powers only work with Dean, surfaced as something even bigger and more annoying. Just like Yin and Yang, the brothers are half of each other, sharing and completing one another.

So, Cynahl prepared a little party for what was left of the Winchester family. Cynahl knew now, that to get to Sam, he needed to get John out of the picture and the brothers needed to be together. First, a distraction was needed, to give John reason to leave Dean without notice "New information" was sent out regarding his dead wife, the predictable John took the bait and left.

Dean's actions after John left were predictable and soon Dean came to Sam's Stanford dorm room, knocking for help. Sam, of course, agreed to finish a hunt and try looking for their father. But, Cynahl's brain washing ideas of school worked all to well on Sammy and he would only go on the condition of being back by Monday for an interview.

This would not do. Cynahl needed the brothers to stay together longer then three days, his plan was tedious and needed more time. While the clueless brothers wandered, Cynahl concocted another plan.

Sam had found a girlfriend while he was at school. A human, regular, non-demon girl, who wasn't in the plan. Not the colossal plan anyways, so, she would need to be extracted from the picture also. Sometimes his job was just too much fun.

Besides from his interview, Sam's true reason for returning was his precious girlfriend, Jess. Or Jessica. She was beautiful, smart, talented and Sam's number one reason for living. Cynahl knew that if that was torn mercilessly away from him, in the same way his loving mother was, then Sam would have no reason to stay and every reason to look for revenge.

So, naturally, Cynahl killed her. Pegged to the ceiling, blood dripping from the gash in her stomach, staining her white night gown. That's how Sam found her.

After that, Sam swore a silent oath, to hunt and kill the son-of-a-bitch that did this to his family. He also swore to find his dad, which caused many wrong turns and pauses in their hunt for the creature. Thus giving Cynahl all the time in the world. He had the control, now he just had to wait.

All the time in the world though, turned out to be roughly a year. Cynahl felt that was enough time for Sam's powers to have developed, so, he arranged a meeting.

What a party that was.

When he was possessing John, he realized that John didn't have much to do with anything. He just always seemed to get in the way and now, Cynahl got to have a little fun with it. He knew Dean was soft for their father and Sam was soft for Dean. Therefore, making John's meat suit, the safest place to be for a Demon.

They really do live up to their names as brothers. Cynahl was reminded that Dean was and is, the major influence in Sam's life, not John.

The time had finally come where one nuisance was to be removed, permanently. Dean of course, had it coming, which made it all the more sweeter when his blood oozed from his chest and his brother stood helplessly pinned across the room.

The you-are-so-dead torture was going quite smoothly in Cynahl's opinion, until an unexpected John managed to take back control of his body for a brief moment and end it.

In that pathetic, but affective, moment of control, Cynahl lost his grip on Sam and he managed to grab the Colt. Even though Cynahl tried to gain control of the situation again, with mention of their dad also dying, he was unsuccessful. After getting shot in the leg, abruptly halting everything, Cynahl fled John's body, in fear of his destruction and left behind scars of every kind.

Since he had failed, again and none of the Winchesters were dead, Cynahl called on Olev and Akitar to finish the job. They shouldn't be that hard to kill, they were all affected in some way and weakened.

With two fresh new demons on the chase and the unsuspecting Winchesters on their way to help, Akitar took the lead.

He possessed a semi driver and collided with the impala at break neck speed, careful not hit Sam's side, because he had to survive the accident.

Again, unfortunate for the demons, all three Winchesters survived. So, Olev took his turn.

He entered the groggy mind of John, and played with it. He convinced John to leave his sons, and once he was able to do so, John did. Next, he tried to enter Dean's comatose body, but for some reason, found it too difficult to stay in, so he left horrible ideas and abandoned it.

Then of course, last, but definitely not least, Sam. Olev screwed around with Sam's visions, emotions and thoughts. Making him feel, just like Dean, that he was solely responsible for everything that went wrong.

Finally, the finale, or close enough. One of the last things that needed to be done, was the possession of Sam.

That was going to be a tricky one. Fun, but tricky.

It proved to be just that, but now that the "hard" part was over, Akitar was thoroughly enjoying himself. Right now, Sam belonged to him and he wasn't about to just pass this opportunity up. Akitar was sucking as much juice from it as he possibly could, doing his best to leave nothing but a shell of a man and some good 'ol memories for himself.

Of course, Akitar couldn't harm Sam as much as he wanted to, because after his short time with him, Sam would have to go to Cynahl and he has to be alive and kicking.

So, instead of harming Sam physically, Akitar chose to harm him mentally. Since Sam had no control over Akitars actions, Akitar made SURE, they were the most disgusting, horrible, merciless things he could think of and then, did it.

He loved to go to the kindergartens around small towns and pick some kid to play with later. Then, he'd make Sam listen to the family's screams and cries of their lost child. It was too much fun.

His specialty, or more like his favorite thing to do was, practically take someone apart while they were still alive. Now THAT, was fun.

Sometimes Akitar would get bored though, so he'd make Sam relive his nightmares about Jessica, and have Sam torch some poor sleeping beauty's bed, after having tied her to it.

Another one of his preferred ways of killing, was "play pretend". Akitar would dress up like a cop, or some other person of importance, picks a normal well-to-do neighborhoods and a Victorian home, and massacre the entire unsuspecting family inside. Sometimes leaving a shattered, whimpering child as the single survivor as the bloody murders only witness.

Olev and Akitar often rampaged together, tormenting and reeking havoc everywhere they went. Such as it was on one very dark afternoon. They were in a park, having their sick hilarious ways with two teenage girls, in celebration of Olevs new assignment. Nobody saw the atrocity they were doing to the dead girls bodies, but Sam did.

Pieces of peach colored skin were slowly being parted from the corpses red, still juicy muscles. It was like the girls were being taken apart like some kind of gruesome puzzle.

While finishing off their gory game, Akitar laughed at how easy it was to snag prey with his new body. In two weeks he'd killed seven teenage girls, three entire families, and two kindergarteners. The fun just never stopped.

"I'm too sexy for your love, laaa laa laaaa." Akitar sang, removing the last of the once beautiful girls organs, and placed them in an almost "neat" pile beside her head.

_'Stop, STOP! No!'_ Sam screamed at Akitar in their shared head. Akitar paused his game to hold his head. Sammy was always doing this. He was always saying things like; don't do that, why did you kill her? You are a monster, blah blah blah. He wasn't quite used to it yet. Soon though, soon Akitar would be able to just block out his pestering screams of "disapproval" and continue with these deeds, dauntless.

Sam wouldn't shut up for the first little while, but now, he had grown quieter. Like he'd finally got the message that screaming didn't matter. Or, Akitar liked to think, that Sam was beginning to get a taste for it.

But, Sam wasn't enjoying the situation at all, nor the things Akitar had been making his body do, and his mind endure. The reason why he seemed quieter, was because he was focusing on gaining control over his body again, trying to figure out what his dad had done in the cabin, and copy it.

At times, when Akitar was sleeping, Sam could tell himself to move his left hand. The first time he did that though, anger took over and Sam ended up punching himself in the face, hurting himself and waking up Akitar.

Sam tried his best to push Akitar out of his body, but it was useless. Akitar would only rebel against Sam, killing more people in spite of him, laughing all the while. It was especially horrible when they were so innocent, like the two girls that lay dead now in front of him, gutless and pale.

Sam couldn't help but scream at Akitars actions in times like this, it was so unbelievably horrifying and wrong. While Sam was wasting his breath, Akitar would often ignore him, or strike up a song to drown him out, making his work even more sadistic then usual.

Like now. Sam was forced to listen to a Pink Floyd song: "May be a price to pay", as mockery.

"There's evil brewing, getting out of control. And I'm helpless, I can't put it right. Something unrighteous is possessing my soul, and it's cold in the heat of the night."

While Akitar was finishing up his deliberately ironic tune, Sam began to think. 'What if I could mentally communicate with dad, or Dean. Or Missouri even. What if I can...'


	6. Chapter 6

The sun glistened over the bright silhouettes of the clouds, a cool breeze danced about and Jason whistled a happy-go-lucky tune as he made his way to work. Such a lovely day.

Well, it was.

Jason came to the door of the garage where he worked and noticed the lock had been broken. It definitely wasn't a sign of friendly company. He paused, only for a moment, before he entered quietly. He grabbed for the nearest object, which happened to be a crowbar, lifted it like a baseball bat and continued to silently search the shop.

What was curious wasn't that the shop had been broken into, but the fact that it had been broken into and nothing was even touched.

"What the f...?" Jason allowed himself to speak softly, scratching his head.

Regardless of the fact that his shop had just been broken into Jason didn't feel threatened, or in danger. He felt more curious and confused then anything. He decided against calling the police, for now, and went to the back, still looking for any signs of, well, anything really.

Jason entered the back, where they keep some of their inventory, and switched on the light. He never would have expected what he saw then.

In the corner of the middle sized, crowded room, lay a bunch of dirty clothes and what looked like oil, dripping and pooling around it. Jason approached it, slowly, gripping the crowbar at his side. As he came closer, he realized it wasn't just clothes and the liquid substance wasn't oil. There was a body under the rags and they were soaked with blood.

Being a mechanic and not a surgeon, Jason's knees nearly buckled underneath him at the thought of blood. The shadows from shelves and boxes kept the person's face hidden and the injury or any weapon they may have had perfectly concealed from this distance away. He cleared his head quickly as he thought of the person's pain and peculiar reason to find refuge in a car shop. He gathered his strength and moved closer and closer to the pathetic mass before him to get a better look.

With the distance of 7 feet, Jason could still not make out anything, so he snatched a flashlight off the shelf and shone it on the body, trembling from the shiny red liquid that oozed across the floor. From his distance, he could see the face of a man, around his late 20's and he was either unconscious or dead, he couldn't really tell.

A harsh cut bled openly from his forehead and sweat and dirt smeared the rest of his face. At this Jason leapt forward, a sudden adrenaline running through him. He bit his lip though, trying not to think about the blood that he had to stand in to get to the man.

His nerves shook as he began to remove the jacket, which he first presumed just a rag and swallowed, afraid he might see more then he bargained for. As he slowly took the jacket off, careful not to move or disturb the man, Jason saw no visible stomach or chest wounds. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, but he held his breath as he pulled it the rest of the way off.

A bloody hole presented itself as gory results that Jason had no problem identifying as a knife wound.

Jason almost gagged and closed his eyes, then opened them only to see the man still lying silent, unmoving and incredibly pale.

"Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit." Jason stood abruptly, holding his head, as the weight of his situation hit him. A sudden groan interrupted Jason's screaming head and he kneeled beside the man.

"Oh shit, he's alive!" Jason breathed, scared and nervous. "Uh, hey, hey, can you hear me?" Jason asked, holding the man's shoulder and tapping the side of his face. Nothing more came from the man, so Jason checked his pulse.

The man's skin was cold and clammy, but his heart was still going...barely. At this Jason jumped up, ran to the front desk and dialed 911.

-----------------------------------

Beep..beep..beep..beep..

"Aw for crying out loud." Dean scowled, squinting from the brightness of his hospital room. "Not again."

Knock, knock

"Hello and welcome back. I'm your doctor, Dr. Hue. How are you feeling?"

Dean gave the doctor a weird look.

"Ah, not so good..." Dr. Hue gathered and jotted something down.

"No, no, it's not that. I feel fine, really." Dean spat out, realizing what he'd done.

"That's what they all say. But you're healing quite nicely considering."

Dean opened his mouth to speak then quickly became aware of the massive pain as he shifted his leg. "Damnit!" Dean bit his lip.

"Yea, that was a pretty extensive wound you had there, but the stitches are coming together wonderfully. Your head will probably leave you with a scar though." Doctor Hue nodded to his head and scribbled something more down.

Dean frowned in confusion and then wished he hadn't. His hand flew up and touched the tight skin and stitches on his forehead as he rolled his eyes, grimacing.

"So," the doctor paused, "Do you remember anything?"

Dean hadn't even tried to think about how he got there again. He just knew, for some reason, he'd left and now he was back. Of course, the doctor didn't give him a chance. This was the first time he'd really been conscious since, well, since whatever it was that happened, happened.

"I didn't think so." Dr. Hue said after Dean's long pause.

The doctor didn't try to pry anything from Dean at this point, he seemed content to just be there and let Dean think, while randomly writing more notes and other such doctoral things down.

Dean took the time to, unfortunately, think about what had happened. The only thing Dean could call what he could remember was a nightmare. Nothing seemed real, or even possible, yet there he lay, in pain, on a lonely hospital bed with proof that it did.

The distressed eldest of two lay there for what seemed like quite some time, trying to piece together possibility's and scenarios for what might have happened before the doctor chimed in and interrupted.

"Would you like a hand?" Doctor Hue asked seriously, "I only know what the police told me though."

A slight nod was Dean's solemn reply.

With a deep sigh, the doctor began, " You weren't my patient before so I just learned you were here only last week. They told me you had been kidnapped from here 6 days ago, you were with your brother and then you vanished. And that a man found you in his car shop and he called 911. That's pretty much all I know."

Dean stared past the doctor, in a sort of shock, listening.

"Police have come around a couple times, trying to speak with you, but you're in no condition to be bombarded by those bastards in badges." Doctor Hue finished.

Dean came out of his trance and raised an eyebrow at the doctor.

"Hey, you don't think you're the only one who they piss off do you?" He laughed.

A weak smile laced Dean's lips, and he would have laughed had it not been for the fact that Sam had been mentioned but failed to be present.

The question of Sam's whereabouts would have escaped him but his nerves couldn't handle an answer he didn't want to hear, so he kept quiet.

"Oh," Doctor Hue started suddenly, "The police did give me this," He handed Dean a crinkled letter, "It's addressed to you. They said they found it by you at the scene and weren't allowed to open it for some crap-police-policy reason."

Dean grabbed the letter without notice to his rudeness and ripped it open, curious and sick with worry.

The letter read:

Dean,

If you're reading this, it's because all my fears are becoming true. A man, named Pete called me to exchange the colt and the bullets for your life and I knew it was a trap. I also know Pete's working for The Demon and he wants me.

I've arranged some things for you, in Rom 102. I've put my laptop, the fake ID's, our weapons, and the Book of Solomon in a trunk. You'll know which it is, because I drew a protection symbol on its lid. It's the same as on this letter.  
Dean, I don't know what's going to happen, but you don't have any fault in this. Understand that, please. Don't forget to look after yourself and promise you'll take what pills you need to, to get better. You're no good to anyone dead. I know it's pointless to tell you not to look for me and I can't stop you from trying, but don't die doing it. I still need you.  
Don't go crazy, but don't give up.

Sam

Time seemed to stop as hot tears formed in Dean's eyes and he let his hands fall slowly to rest on his bed. Rage and regret hit Dean like a ton of bricks as he realized what Sammy had done. Big brothers were supposed to the sacrificing, not the younger ones!

Dean would have left right then and there (regardless of his current condition), had it not been for the stinging responsibility Sam had left him with by making one stupid promise to him: Get Better, by means of doctoral drugs.

"Uh, I think we're done here." Doctor Hue stood up, noticing Deans odd staring again, "Just push that little red button if you need anything." He pointed and then walked briskly out of Dean's room.

Dean barely noticed. He was so caught up in thoughts of what to do, and unfortunately, he fell on the conclusion that he had to stay in the hospital and heal. Until then, all he could do was think.

So, over the next three weeks Dean spent every waking hour trying to devise a plan and dig up any information he could on his little brothers whereabouts.

Eventually the eldest couldn't take it anymore. On the 22nd night, since he'd woken up, Dean slipped out of his hospital cot, gathered whatever drugs he could find, and left.

Dean reached Sam's motel twenty minutes later, with letter in hand.

"Aw, crap." Dean fiddled with the doorknob of Sam's room, and swore under his breath when he found it was locked. He didn't have time to muster a lie for the motel clerk and he had no fake ID's with him, so Dean took a deep breath, gathered his built up anger for a famous door shattering kick.

BAM!

The door fell in with its hinges bent from the force of the blow and Dean stepped in, hitting the lights.

It took Dean only a second before his eyes came to rest on the black trunk at the end of an unmade bed. A thin layer of dust covered it, proving none had been in the room for quite some time and Dean figured Sam must have rented the place out for a while.

Dean swallowed hard, thinking of Sam, but shook it off and yanked the trunks lid open. To his relief, he found all the items that Sam had mentioned in the letter, still inside and unharmed.

Dean then plunged his hand in the trunk and pulled out Sam's cell phone, immediately calling his father. Sam and John were never that close, but maybe, just maybe John knew something Dean didn't.

Ring, ring.

"Hello, the customer you are calling is not available at this ti-"

"Damnit!" Dean hung up the phone as the annoying robotic female voice began to speak. The next person who came to mind was Bobby. So Dean dialed his number and held it to his ear, listening intently.

Thankfully Bobby picked up and explained to Dean that his father and he were on a hot trail and trying to get a nasty son-of-a-bitch up North. Dean felt hurt that his dad hadn't told him, and failed to mention about his own abduction. Instead, Dean asked if either he, or his dad knew anything about Sam and Bobby's reply was no. With that Dean hung up.

Then, a glint of silver caught his eye. He reached into the trunk and pulled out a set of car keys.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean whispered and twirled the keys into his hand. He gathered the contents of the trunk and stepped over the falled door, switching off the lights as he exited.

Dean hurried to the motel parking lot and whistled at the site of his new baby; A black, 1967, Buick LeSabre. He was quick to get comfortable, throwing his possessions in the back seat with a satisfied grin on his face.

"Thanks again dude." Dean smiled as he squealed out of the parking lot.

"Fred honey, don't fall asleep, dear." Martha said to her tired husband as she gave his sore shoulders a slight rub to keep him awake.

It was 2 am and the elderly couple was driving their regular, rural route home. The church meeting in town had run rather late this particular night, and had pushed way past their normal 9 o'clock bed times. The couple's house being roughly an hour or so out of town didn't help much, but Fred being the Pastor in Timnath, Colorado a small town church, he really had no choice.

Though driving could be a chore for the old bones and for tired minds sometimes, neither of the two ever complained. Both were quite happy with their way of life and everyone else in the town loved them, so it worked quite well to be honest.

Martha was the town's tender heart and voice of wisdom. Always keen to lend a hand or hear someone's tragic story, to help ease the pain. And Fred, not only being the Pastor, but the party planner as well. He always had some wild shindig up his sleeve, or a surprise birthday bash planned for a friend, the good times never stopped with this man.

Seeing her husbands faltering awareness, Martha offered her assistance, "I can turn on the radio, or I can sing a bit." She half asked, raising her eyebrows at the tired man beside her.

"Sorry Marty, but you're a terrible singer," Fred stated, laughing at just how straightforward and truthful he'd been.

"Well your feet always stink. But do I deny you a foot message? Noooooo." Martha shot back, crossing her arms.

"That's because you love me, darling," Fred smiled, looking over to his beloved wife with his trademark gentlemen charm.

"Y'know, one day I'm going to whip that around and use it right back at ya," she said, trying to be serious, though her act did not last long. A smile soon crossed her face as she bashfully looked into her life long partner's eyes.

"Awww, yer so cute when you do that." Fred melted at the site of his wife's tinted pink cheeks. "C'mere." Fred motioned and lent in for a kiss.

Martha began to oblige when something caught her eye.

"Oh, my dear Lord. Fredrick look out!" Martha screamed as their Chevy truck swerved to the left.

Dust flew as the truck came to an abrupt halt on the far-left side of the road. Both Martha and Fred sat there, momentarily stunned, trying to regain a regular pulse. You figure a couple as old as they were, would be as ornery as hell and would have started a huge fuss about this by now. Raising their voices and arms, doing nothing but make a bad situation worse. But, these two are not an ordinary couple. Instead of being the stereotypical crabby old farts, they were both genuinely intrigued and concerned. Both with huge amounts of patience, they waited, in caution, until the dust settled.

As the dust dissipated, dim headlights could be seen slightly behind and to Martha's right.

There sat, half off the road, a dusty black, Buick LeSabre. Fred twisted, and squinted to get a better look, but not much could be seen from his point of view.

"Oh, thank Jesus. Thank you very much!" Martha started praying in pure thankfulness.

"Hush Martha," Fred commanded, raising a hand, "Ya hear that?"

Martha fell silent instantly, feeling a tad bit hurt, but decided to listen instead of dwell. "It sounds...like a-"

"Like an engine. By golly, that whippersnappers left his car on," Fred said, partly irritated but concerned, as he pushed open his door and headed on over to the running car.

"Fred," Martha caught his arm, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to go check and see if the poor soul's alright," He answered honestly.

"You're not as young as you used to be, gramps," she stated for his benefit, still clinging to his arm.

Fred looked genuinely offended. "I know that, but by golly I was in the army and I was trained to look out for others less fortunate then me and that's what I'm gonna do." Fred put his foot down and Martha released his arm, looking amused at his army speech.

He turned to leave.

"But what if it's a trick, and he's a thief? Or worse, a mugger," Martha asked, now more frightened.

"It's alright, darling'," Fred reassured, "I've got Trixy with me." He winked as he patted his left pants pocket, letting her know the presence of his 6-inch army knife.

"Alright, but please be careful honey, ok?"

"When am I not?" He winked again as he turned and started towards the vehicle.

His wife frowned at his last remark as she recalled numerous times he'd been injured because of carelessness.

Fred approached the car with haste, slowly circling it the long way round, trying to see if there was any damage or not. It appeared to be fine, no dents, no broken glass, no missing tires, even the back and front of the car was untouched. The peculiar condition of the car, considering it's situation, raised some suspicions in Fred and he hesitated to go any farther. Looking back at his wife, a bit of worry in his eyes.

Martha inched forward, a wave of concern pulsing through her. He noticed, then nodded and smiled, to reassure her, at the same time reassuring himself.

He then quickly continued his investigation, until he got to the driver's side. Once around, Fred could see a figure. It was blurry and hard to see clearly because of the condensation that had built up inside, but he could tell it was male. The shadowy figure looked slumped over, with its head on the steering wheel. Worry hit Fred with a jolt, and he tapped on the window, just in case. "Hello? Do you need some help?"

When no response came, a pang of urgency coursed through Fred and he grabbed hold of the door handle, pulling open it with no hesitation.

What Fred saw then wasn't just a poor soul; it was a young, poor soul. The man, around 27 years of age Fred guessed, was pale, sweat beaded off his face and he was unmoving. The sorrowful site nearly brought tears to Fred's eyes as the thought of such a young mind and body was in such peril. He filtered his sadness into concentration though and focused. This boy was in his hands now and it was for a reason.

"Hey, kid? Kid?" Fred asked loudly, fear of the worst lingering in his mind. No response. "Kid?" He asked again, gently grabbing hold of the young man's shoulder.

Fred jumped as the young man gasped awake and leant in as the man mumbled. All he got was something about M&M's and a man named Sammy. Since Fred was hard of hearing as it was, the young man's lack of articulation didn't help.

The young man's eyes blinked awake and he slowly turned his head towards the elderly man, looking exhausted.

"Hey...you're not Sam." The young man rasped, clearly surprised and confused.

"No, I'm afraid I'm not," Fred answered, half laughing, half sorry for the kid. He was so relieved that the kid was alive and seemingly ok. "I'm Fred, and you are?"

"Uh...Dean." He answered, yawning.

"Ok, Dean," Fred started in as kind and quiet voice he could, "You wanna tell me why you're parked in the middle of the road with your car running?"

Dean gave Fred a weird look and scanned his where about. "I couldn't really tell you," Dean answered honestly.

"Did you drink? Were you at a party? Are you drunk now?" Fred shot questions at Dean, without giving him time to answer.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa gramps," Dean cut in, "I'm not drunk, I'm just..." Dean stopped mid sentence, dazing off as he tried to think of what exactly he WAS. Things were kind of fuzzy and hard to remember.

"You're high aren't you?" Fred accused, narrowing his eyes at Dean, in suspicion.

Dean blinked in shock, coming out of his trance and raised his eyebrows at Fred in surprise.

"Fredrick!" Martha snapped, coming up behind him, "Don't interrogate this poor boy. Can't you see he's been through enough already?"

"Martha? I thought I told you to stay in the truck?" Fred asked annoyed, "What if he had been a mugger?"

"Then I'd have my strong, burly husband to protect me." Martha replied sarcastically, looking at Dean with a smile.

Dean just sat in his car, looking confused back and forth at the odd couple before him.

"Hello, I'm Martha." She smiled warmly. "Don't mind my husband," She said, half laughing and waving her hand backwards at Fred.

Dean gave her a weak smile, while giving Fred an apprehensive look.

"And you?" she asked, still smiling.

"Dean," He answered faster this time, but he wasn't really looking at her. "Um, do you think you could tell me...where am I?" Dean asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're on the 23rd west road, sweetie," Martha replied.

Dean's eyesight was focusing and un-focusing without his consent and Martha could tell he was having difficulty staying awake.

"Honey, you don't look very well," the elderly woman said, her face showing concern, "When was the last time you slept?"

"It depends on what day it is..."

"You're in the middle of the road at 20 after 2 in the morning and you haven't a CLUE where you are, or even what day it is?!" Fred interjected in alarm, "You are high, aren't you?"

"No, just-"

"Oh,stop it, Fred. Don't be rude," Martha swatted at him, cutting Dean off. "You poor boy. When did you eat last?" She asked, looking at Deans pale complexion and the scar across his forehead.

When Dean failed to reply and avoided eye contact with her, Martha gasped. "You don't know that either? Oh dear, you must be starving. Fred, we've-"

"I know, I know, Martha," Fred finished her thought.

"What? What are you going to do?" asked Dean still unfocused.

"We are church people and we can't leave you here, young man," Fred was trying to argue with Dean but his wife interrupted him.

"Why don't you come home with us? We live very near and you could rest and have a good meal. And a shower too sweetie, I'm afraid you really need that," said Martha. flushing.

"I'm fine, seriously," Dean tried to say but in that moment he was particularly dizzy so he wasn't much sure of what had come out of his mouth.

"So, you're fine? " asked Fred scratching his nose. " Okay, if you're fine, tell me where you are and what day it is?"

"I'm in Idaho and it's Monday," answered Dean defiantly.

" You're in Colorado and it's Friday," laughed Fred.

"Damn!! Sorry ma'am, " Dean said, rubbing his forehead. He was starting to feel very bad, tired, sore and dizzy.

"You're far away of being okay, kid! Come with us tonight, take a nap, eat some food and then you can go freely," offered Fred with a smile but he was really worried about this exhausted kid in front of him.

Sorry, but the last time a small town offered me some apple pie and a kind smile I almost died by a freaking scarecrow," murmured Dean trying to camouflage this sentence with a yawn. "You're very kind but I can't, really. I'm leaving now, I need to go to Seattle as soon as possible." He was feeling extremely weak and lightheaded.

Dean got out of the car to shake their hands but almost fell to the ground instead.

"I gotcha you kid" said Fred grabbing Dean by the shoulders. "You come with us".


	7. Chapter 8

Dean was awake, but he didn't want to open his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept in a comfortable bed with clean, perfumed sheets. He could smell bacon and French toast cooking. He could also hear a female voice singing an old song. Where was he? He was getting used to being completely lost lately.

"Good morning, sweetie," said Marty, carrying a tray with Dean's breakfast and a large cup of coffee. "How do you feel today?

"Morning, ma'am," said Dean shyly, "uh, er..."

"Don't tell me you don't remember my pretty face, honey?" she said, laughing.

"Um...nope," Dean said, sitting in the unfamiliar bed, still finding himself feeling completely lost.

"My husband and I found you. You had fainted in your car last night, we brought you here and I tell you the minute I showed you the bed you were sleeping like a puppy."

"Thanks ma'am, but I have to leave now. I really appreciate all you did for me but..." Dean said, getting off of the bed, but he soon realized he was wearing only his boxers, so he stopped and covered himself with the sheets. "Sorry, ma'am." Dean was starting to feel the lack of air in his lungs and his chest was protesting his sudden movement.

"My name is Martha, but everybody calls me Marty, so stop calling me ma'am. I feel terribly old when you do that and don't be sorry, Dean, I was the one who stripped you last night," she said, laughing.

"Oh!" Dean exclaimed, flushing. "Marty, could you tell me where my bags are? I really need my stuff."

"I'm washing your clothes right now, so you can borrow some of Fred's clothes in the meantime."

"Thanks, but I really need my bags, I have medication to take."

"Oh! Honey, so young and taking pills." Marty went to the kitchen for a moment and then came back with Dean's bags. "Here you are, Dean."

"Thanks, Marty," Dean said with a smirk. He started looking for the paper bag that contained his prescription bottles and the inhaler.

"May I ask what they are for? And why you have those nasty, ugly scars?"

"Long story," said Dean, opening the bottles. He swallowed two different types of pills, then used the inhaler. "Ugh, I hate all of this crap."

"Do you feel okay now?" Marty worriedly asked a few moments later.

"I'm fine, don't worry," Dean said with a mouth full of bacon, having moved on to breakfast.

"Well, I left you some clothes and fresh towels on this chair," said Marty and then she left the room.

Dean finished his breakfast quickly, then went to the bathroom to take a shower. He stopped in front of the mirror and looked at the scars crossing his chest from side to side. They were ugly, but at least they were healing nicely.

Then he saw his tired and sad face. He thought that the world had kicked his ass very hard this time, but he was still standing and fighting. After his shower, he did some breathing therapy, the ones that the therapist had taught him at the hospital. Then he went to the kitchen where he found Fred and Marty sitting at the table having breakfast.

"Morning, boy. How do you feel today? Do you remember where you are or what day it is?" said Fred, smiling.

"Umm..." Dean mumbled.

"Oh, I see, you're brain is still a bit jumbled," laughed Fred. "I'm Fred. Well, kid, you can stay here as long as you'd like," Fred said, standing and offering his hand to Dean.

"Thanks, but I'm leaving..."

"To Seattle?" interrupted Marty. " What are you looking for in Seattle, darling?"

"Long story. Sorry, but I don't know you two and..."

"And we don't know you either, Dean," laughed Fred. "But the Lord placed you in our path and the Lord is never wrong."

"Fred, darling, could you help me with this can?" asked Marty

"Please, let me," Dean said, opening the can with ease.

"We need some help around here. We are old people now, Dean. If you want, you could stay and work for us? We need a handyman in the church. Our roof has leaks. Marty told me you're sick, so stay here for a bit and allow your body and mind to heal," said Fred, seriously. "And I'm not going to accept no for answer."

"I could stay a few weeks to help you with that roof, but after that I really need to be on my way."

"Deal."

After talking with Fred, Dean took Sam's phone and called his father, but as usual he got no response. But he was luckier when he called Bobby.

"Hey, Bobby! It's Dean!"

"Hi!"

"Listen, I'm in Colorado right now, helping some people with a small problem they have, but as soon as I finish it I'll go to help you and dad with that hunt and ...umm...I have to tell my Dad something..."

"John is right here with me, wait a sec."

"Dean?" John barked.

Silence.

"Um... Hey, Dad," Dean finally whispered.

"Where are you? How are you? Listen, I know I left you at the hospital, but I was confused and..."

"Dad, Sam is missing," Dean said, interrupting his father's explanation.

"Sam is what? When did that happen? What were you doing? How did you allow that to happen?" John shouted.

"I'm sorry, Dad," said Dean, sobbing. "Somebody kidnapped me, and when Sammy came to rescue me..." A beat. "I think that...I think ..." Dean's voice was trembling.

"What do you think, Dean?" shouted a furious John.

"A Demon possessed him."

Silence filled both receivers; their faint breaths couldn't even be heard. Finally, John found the strength to speak.

"Where he is now? Is he okay? What kind of Demon? I want answers, and now!" yelled John.

"Sorry, Dad, I don't know... I don't know where he is, I don't know if he's okay," said Dean, tears now openly streaming down his face. "I don't know anything."

"Where are you now?" asked John, sensing the stress in Dean and calming down a bit.

"I'm in Colorado. I was going to Seattle to meet you, but I had some trouble and..."

"I going to start calling people, hunters, and some friends in the police force," interrupted John. "And I have to finish this hunt with Bobby. This little bastard killed a lot of children here... Okay, Dean, this is what we are going to do. Listen. Stay in Colorado, help us with the research and as soon as we finish here, we're going to meet you and together we are going to find your brother. Okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir."

As time passed, Dean lived a double life. In the mornings and afternoons, he helped Fred with the roof and others things in the church that needed to be repaired. But in the evenings, he locked his door and became Dean Winchester the hunter again.

Every night, after having dinner with the Jones, he excused himself and went to his room to do some research. Every single night he started by reading a letter, a letter from Sam. The police found near him in that dirty garage almost two month ago, where the bad guys had left him to die.

But they were wrong, he was a fighter and whatever doesn't kill him, makes him stronger. Sammy's letter was worn down, because Dean kept it in his jeans pocket. It was a reminder to him of the task at hand. Every single night Dean, with tears in his eyes, made a promise after reading the letter.

"Sammy, I'm going to find you, and kill the son-of-a-bitch demon. I don't matter if I have to go to hell to do that, because I'm already living in it now. If you can hear me with your psychic antenna, you must know that I'm coming. Wait for me. Don't give up."

Dean's room looked like his Dad's rooms, really. Drawings, photocopies, newspapers, reports and thousands of posts littered the walls. Books, encyclopedias, and all the other "hunting" materials, claimed the floor. Dean smirked, because he looked liked the geek boy, a library mouse surrounded by books.

He spent hour after hour looking up the demon's information, exorcism's and ways to kill the demon without hurting Sam. Lately, he started reading books on telepathy, because of this vibe he was having, as if someone was whispering in a very faint voice in his head, something he couldn't understand. He memorized Solomon's book and he could now recite the exorcism spell by memory.

He called his Dad every single day, but they were still stuck in that hunt and now Bobby was hurt. His friends didn't have any information for them. His dad told him the same thing, every single day. The repetition was beginning to weigh on Dean. "Stay there and as soon as I can I'll meet you," his Dad would tell him. Dean waited week after week and his Dad never showed. Almost a month later, he stopped calling his Dad.

A couple of days later, on a raining evening, Fred and Marty told Dean that they wanted to talk with him. The tones in their voices made it sound serious.

"Dean, honey, we want some answers. You have been with as for about two months now and we know nothing about you," said Marty.

"If you want me to leave, I'll pack all my stuff and..."

"No, Dean. We like you very much and you're so kind and helpful, but you are still a complete stranger to us," said Fred.

"From the beginning I thought that you were a lost soul with a heavy weight on your shoulders. Fred and I spoke last night and well, we want to help you," said Marty.

"Nobody can help me."

"Don't say that, everybody needs somebody and we are here to help you. So what´s your story boy?" asked Fred.

"Um! I don't know if I should tell you the truth, you wouldn't believe me."

"Why don't you try, sweetie. It would make you feel a lot better," said Marty.

Dean started pacing the living room. "Okay, I don't know why, but I'm gonna trust in you. When I was four years old and my little brother Sam was six months old, my Mom died in a fire, in a fire that started in Sammy's nursery. I saved my baby brother and our Dad saved both of us. After that, my Father became obsessed with supernatural things, like demons and ghosts..." Dean opened his heart up to this lovely and caring old couple, he was feeling somewhat safe around them. He eventually told them everything, even his darkest thoughts. And they listened in silence, respectfully, and at the end of his tale, they had tears in their eyes.

"Well that's all," said Dean, terribly sad, but feeling a lot better now. That was the second time in all his life that he had told someone who he really was.

"Oh, honey," said Marty, hugging Dean. "You are very brave, and it's not your fault what happened to your mom, Jessica, or Sam. You know it, don't you?"

"Of course it's my fault. Jessica was killed because I..." Dean could barely speak; the overflowing emotions were starting to make his voice tremble.

"Don't be silly, boy. The only thing you have done your entire life was take care of everybody else, but you..." said Fred.

"Yes, but..."

"You are full of love and care," said Marty, still hugging Dean.

"No, I'm not. I'm a bad person, I'm a killer..."

"Listen, sweetheart, you are not alone any more, you have us and we are going to help you find your brother," said Fred.

"I..."

"Stop fighting, kid. Stop fighting your feelings. Stop fighting the screams of your soul. You aren't Rambo. You are a frightened boy. And I'm gonna let you to be that kid again," said Marty.

"That kid is dead."

"Dean, you must break that stupid mask, that stupid wall you've built all of these years. You _are_ a kid, and you are sick. And you need someone who can look after you, who really cares for you, and that person is me and obviously Fred, too.

You aren't Superman. You aren't a psychotic killer. You really don't know who you are. You have been trained as a soldier and soldiers don't think or feel, but you know you have a soul and that forgotten soul is killing you little by little. You must hear what your soul is talking about," said Marty, crying.

"I...I..." said Dean, with tears in his eyes.

"Let it all out, Dean. Allow yourself to cry. Get it out of your system, all the bad things. Allow yourself a new start in your life. It's not too late. Allow the real Dean, the one who knows how to feel, to take care of the old Dean. Cry, shout and scream, Dean. Allow yourself to express your feelings. Allow yourself to be a human being," cried Marty.

Dean started crying out loud, his sobs muffled by Marty's clothing.

"See, Dean, crying is not being a sissy, it's being a normal human being," said Marty, putting Dean's head on her shoulder and rubbing his hair.

Dean cried and shouted aloud without caring of what the people would think about him. He cried for his mom, for his little brother, for the life he never had, for his health and he cried with Marty hugging him, making him feel protected and loved.

Since that day, Dean felt that he was really important to somebody besides Sam. He doesn't need to hide any more. He could be the Dean that was screaming inside of him all of these years.

He spent day after day with Marty and Fred building a new Dean, and of course looking for Sam. Fred went to the police station and told a very convincing lie about Sam being kidnapped by a satanic cult who made him do horrible things.

Sheriff Jackson started helping with the searching, too. Even the bible reading group started helping Dean. The seventy to eighty year old ladies loved to help that handsome boy, even if they had to read about demons and exorcism.

Dean felt like he was dreaming. All of that love and caring was enough to fill years of sorrow and pity. But he never forgot what was his first priority: find and free Sam.  
One-day sheriff Jackson came with good news. He had been talking with other sheriffs from all over the country and they had found a very reliable clue. They had found someone who looked like Sam, and has been killing families all over the country.

That night Dean knew that the time for action had arrived. But first he needed to find a hunt, so that he could test himself. He needed to know if he was strong enough to go hunting again, strong enough to fight for his brother, strong enough to fight in the most important hunt of his life-the hunt for his brother.


	8. Chapter 9

_** Author´s note: This is a all new chapter ..well the beginning is the same than the previous chapter posted here but i added a lot...hope you enjoy!!!!! and if you find the answer to the hint please let me know!!  
**_

"Come again?" said Dean with sparking eyes.

" Wolverine sheriff sent me an e-mail about some murders in his town. A tall, handsome guy pretending being a Red Cross volunteer looking for some collaborators entered two Victorian houses massacring the entire family. A little boy was left behind in the second house and told the sheriff about this tall, brown haired guy. I sent Sam's photograph and when the kid saw it, he started screaming and crying. That was a few days ago." said Sheriff Jackson.

"Gosh!! Sammy!!" said Dean, with anguish, "Any clue of where is he now?"

"That guy left the town the same day. But talking with several other sheriffs with the same kind of murders I found a pattern. Small towns, Victorian houses, two massacres and then puff, disappeared. But he came back three weeks later to kill the witness and two more families."

"So, are you saying that Sammy is going to be in Wolverine in two weeks from now?"

"Yep".

"Where is Wolverine?" asked Dean with fury and determination.

"Michigan."

After thanking Sheriff Jackson, Dean went to his room slamming the door. He suddenly became so tired. He finally had found his little brother, now it was up to him. He had to find a way to exorcise the demon without killing Sam in the process. Dean became horrify with the thought of chasing and hunting Sam, his little brother, his own brother, his flesh and bone. He shuddered to think about it.

But now it was action time. He jumped to the bed and picked up the phone. As usual, his father didn't answer so he left a message telling him all the good and bad news. He realized that he had Sam's phone not his.

"Oh, boy! I miss that geek boy," Dean said, playing with his brother's phone. He started reading his mail and found a particularly interesting one. With a yesterday date and sent by Jerk to Bitch. He clicked it and started reading.

**SARA MUDDTTES**

**BY NOON,**

**LOVE MISTER PANWIRA**.

" What the f?" Dean grumbled, intrigued. He looked in Sam's phone and in his dad's journal for Sara Muddttes and Mister Panwira, nothing. Then he did some research with the laptop, nothing. He even googled the names, but still nothing.

That same night he had a very weird dream. He was with two Hooter's girls in a bar when suddenly everything became black and empty.

"Hello?" Dean shouted.

"Dean?" said a far away voice.

Dean still couldn't see anything.

"Sam? Where are you? Can you hear me?"

" I knew it! The telepathy is working!!" said Sam, with joy.

"Telepathy? Sam, am I talking to you or am I dreaming?"

"Listen to me carefully. I'm okay, well not wonderful, but still alive and kicking. My body is fine. This demon Akitar is a nasty one but he is taking good care of it. I'm………"

Silence.

"Sam? Are you still with me? Sam!!!."

"I can't talk longer. Look in my mail" said Sam and suddenly the Hooter's girls were with Dean again.

Dean woke up sweating, his sheets wet. It was only a bad dream or he had just spoken with his brother?.

_What had he said? Look in my mail?_

Dean jumped out the bed and started looking in Sam's mail again.

"It must be the Jerk/Bitch one," thought Dean, "But what it means?"

**SARA MUDDTTES**

**BY NOON,**

**LOVE MISTER PANWIRA.**

"It makes no sense," Dean shouted to the dark night. But then he remembered how much Sam loves anagrams and hints. He took paper and pencil and started looking for a clue.

He tried several times but nothing. The hours came and went but he was still clueless.

"Oh shit!!!!" he finally said.

Very early in the morning and after sleeping almost 15 minutes, he put all his stuff in a bag, kissed Marty, said goodbye to Fred and left Timnath, Colorado with the promise of calling every few days to his new family.

He spent the entire long road to Wolverine, Michigan trying to communicate with Sam but nothing happened. He had no luck with his father either.

After a couple of days in the road he arrived in Eureka, Illinois where he spent the night in a cheap old hotel. The next morning he was having coffee at Joe's Diner when Candy the waitress gave him the local newspaper and her phone number with gutter eyes.

"The mystery of the dead teens continue unsolved and without any clues" said the first page. " Five, twelve year old girls were found dead in their beds ….." continued the article.

Dean suddenly became very attached to this article. His guts shout hunt very loudly.

Maybe this was the hunt he was praying for, the one that allowed him to prove to himself that he was capable again to do something like a research and hunt.

He paid the bill and ran to his motel room. He then read the article more carefully.

"Five, twelve year old girls were found dead in their beds, one each night for the last five days. Their rooms were closed from the inside; all the windows were closed, too. What the police found more annoying was that the girls were under the beds, in fetal position and with their pillows covering their heads. No signs of a struggle were evident to investigators."

"Show time, " said Dean.

"Good afternoon, Mrs...?" said a handsome man to Mrs. Smith, a forty something pretty woman.

" Mrs. Smith. And you are?"

"Agent Panwira, from the Marshall office," said that gorgeous man standing in front of her with a sexy smirk. He showed a badge so quickly she couldn't see it. "I'm looking for the police officer in charge of that poor little girl's murders case"

Mrs. Smith didn't answer, she was still looking at this Adonis.

"Do you know him?"

"Oh…ahem…her…you are looking for Miss Marple," said Mrs. Smith, flushing. "She is at the last victim's house….23 Woodland Street. The name of the victim is Samantha Spade".

Dean parked the Buick in front of a small white house filled with cops and family friends. He entered the house and asked the first cop he saw where he could find Ms. Marple.

"She is in Sammie's room," a fat, red faced cop told him.

Sammie's room was pink and light green with dolls, teddy bears and actors and singers pictures in all the walls. Under the bed he could see a pair of jeans and boots.

"Ahem!!" said Dean as an introduction.

A pretty red haired, green eyed, twenty-something girl jumped out from under the bed.

"Sorry I was… who are you?" She demanded.

"Agent Panwira from the Marshall offices" said Dean with his best smirk. "My boss is pissed with this case, five teens in five days isn't a good thing, Officer Marple."

"Call me Tammy. Oh.. Wow. I didn't know this case was so important. Marshall office you said?"

"Yep. So five teens, doors and windows closed, found under the beds with their pillows over their heads. Did they die of suffocation?"

"No. The autopsy confirmed that they all died of a heart attack."

"Heart attacks at_ twelve_?"

"Yea I thought the same. I talked with the doctor and he thought that maybe they all died of fear."

"Scared to death?" said Dean with disbelief. "Were the victims connected with each other?"

"They were best friends. Last Friday they all attended a pajama party at Lilly's house and since that day they started dying."

"Lilly?…er…"

"Lilly Rush, the first victim," said Tammy, looking strangely at the Marshall officer without any clue about this case.

"Oh yeah!! Lilly. Sorry I just joined today to this investigation."

"SAMMIE!! SAMMIE! NO! NOT YOU!!!" Someone was shouting in the front room.

Tammy and Dean went running to see who was shouting and they found two girls screaming and crying hysterically hugging each other and being comforted by Sammie's mom.

"I told you, Claire, we're next!" a blonde, thin girl whined to a tall brunette.

"Come again?" said Dean, approaching to the girls.

"It's nothing officer. She's just in shock," the brunette one who was trying to comfort the blonde one said.

" No, I'm not, Claire. He said we're all gonna die, one each day. He would make our worst nightmares true." Said the blonde one, crying.

Everyone in the room moved uncomfortably and made sounds of disbelief.

"He?" asked Dean and put his arm on the blonde's shoulder. "What's your name, hun?"

"Kendra. And yes, he told us all that last Friday."

"Okay, Kendra and Claire. I want to talk with you in private in the kitchen. I really need a coffee and maybe we find some chocolate. Everything is better with coffee and chocolate," Dean said, looking at Tammy.

Kendra and Claire sat together in a bench meanwhile Tammy was looking for something to eat.

"My name is Dean, this is Tammy and we really want to hear everything about last Friday night," said Dean, giving the girls a bowl with ice cream and sipping a huge cup of hot coffee.

"Well," Kendra began, "it was our last summer pajama party. At about 12 o'clock we were bored so Lilly told us that her sister had brought an ouija board. Callie started joking about ghosts and spirits and we all agreed to play a bit. We tried for a while but nothing happened so Callie said it was because we were trying to talk with good spirits. So Lilly and Callie started calling for the worst spirit in all Illinois and the board started moving."

"Who are you?" asked Lilly.

"I'm Anthony," said the board.

"Are you a good ghost?" asked Callie.

" No, I'm not."

"Have you ever killed someone?" asked Rachel.

"Yes, so many people that I can't remember them all."

"We all shouted and cried and Sammie and Claire wanted to stop playing but Sarah continued asking it questions," continued Kendra.

"Why did you kill all those people?"

"Because it's a nice feeling, makes me feel great."

"How did you kill them?" asked Sammie.

"I made them all have their worst nightmares. I love to see them cry and shout asking for their mommy. I fill their night with fears and horror. I made them crawl under their beds and I only stop when their hearts stop beating."

"Are you gonna kill us?" I asked.

"Of course!!! Each of one of you are gonna die screaming and crying in horror and nobody will help you."

"At this moment we all were crying and shouting," said Claire. "I want you to leave now! I shouted and threw the board through the window and to the street."

"And now I realized that all ours friends died in the same order we talked with Anthony so tonight…" Kendra started crying again.

"Tonight I'm gonna die!" she sobbed.


	9. Chapter 10

_**authors note: if you don´t understand much about this chapter is because i rewrite almost all the fic, i have a new beta and with her help i improved this story. Last chapter is absolutly different from before!!! please, check that before reading this one. **_

Tammy ran to their side trying to comfort the girls and calm them down.

"So, Anthony?. Do you know something more about this Anthony guy?" asked Dean taking a big gulp from his coffee, his mind thinking in a million of possibilities about this nasty spirit.

"Officer Panwira!!!!" half yelled Tammy. "You know this Anthony isn't real!. Don't worry girls nobody is gonna hurt you." Dean was going to say something but was interrupted by a cop calling for Tammy.

"Tammy!! Somebody is asking for you by the door."

"Ok, thanks Tommy. Girls I'll be right back, stay here with officer Panwira" said Tammy and left the room.

"You believe us?" asked Kendra sobbing and a plea in her eyes.

"Of course I believe you, sweety" said Dean kneeling by her side and putting his hand in hers. Dean tried to comfort her but he didn't know how. "Sammy is good at this kind of situation, not me" thought Dean.

"Claire, I think we can trust him" said Kendra with determination in her eyes.

Claire just nodded while tears where running down her cheeks. She sniffed loudly and started talking. "Sammie, Kendra and me did some research about this Anthony after Rachel's death. Come with us."

The girls stood up and started heading to Sammie's room, Dean just followed them.

When they entered Sammie's room he smelled it…. ozone. "Yep, this Anthony guy is real" thought Dean.

Claire with an extremely sad, look sat in front of Sammie's computer and started looking for a file. Kendra stood by Dean side looking at the screen with her hand in Dean's trying to get some support. After a few moments she started talking in a faint and tired voice."We found local lore about a guy who saw a horror movie back in 1970 and started killing people like in the movie and……"

Kendra was explaining their research to Dean while Claire was copying it to a CD but was interrupted by Tammy's loud voice outside Sammie's room.

"…but I already told you, sir . He told us he was from the Marshall's office. He showed us a badge and…" Tammy voice was interrupted by a strong voice shouting.

"I'm from the Marshall's office and I can tell you there isn't an officer Panwira…"

"Oh shit!!" said Dean. "Girls, I believe you, I gonna help you and nothing bad is going to happened. Please, believe me!. I'm a ghost hunter like in the movies and I'm gonna kill this Anthony. Just trust me." Dean said all this while he was taking the CD with the information and jumping from Sammie's window. "Don't tell anybody about your research" shouted Dean from the back garden.

Dean ran to the Buick and sped from Sammie's house. He found himself looking for the inhalator. " Fuck!!!!!. I'm a bit rusty that's all, calm down," he thought to himself knowing it was a big lie.

Ten minutes later he was sitting in a wooden chair, eating a cheeseburger and trying to turn on Sam's laptop. "C'mon girl! I know my fingers aren't as sexy as Sam's but help me with this". He laughed at this statement and felt the loneliness in his heart. He sighed deeply and clicked on Anthony's file. It was from a crappy teen site about dark Eureka.

" ...in 1970 a guy called Tony Dino watched a horror movie called "Your worst nightmare" and he became obsessed with the film. He watched it over and over again and when the theatre changed the movie after three months of showing it, Tony became mad. He needed to see the movie so badly that he started recreating it. He first killed all his family, then his friends and after that every single person that crossed his path. He tortured them so badly that the bodies where just an unidentifiable mess . After his 150th victim he was caught and killed but he swore to kill everybody in the town before dying. So from that moment if a theatre in Eureka shows a horror movie Tony's spirit woke up to kill….."

"This is the most stupid local lore I've ever read. This was made up by a bunch of old fashion parents trying to tell their kids what to watch and what to do." thought Dean.

As all local lore has a part that is true and the rest it's just a big lie, Dean googled the movie name and found that "Your worst nightmare" never existed. "Shit!" thought Dean after researching for almost an hour.

A little while later he found something about a cabaret called "Nightmare". "What a happy shiny name for a cabaret" smirked Dean. That cabaret was demolished in 1940 after the police found that a local gangster called Anthony Dinozzo used it as a lair and the place where he killed his enemies. Many years later, in 1970, some kind of class C movie director made a bloody movie about that cabaret and it was canceled from the theatres because a bunch of teens started kidnapping and torturing cats, dogs and then little kids in the same way than in the movie. "Bingo!!" said Dean. "Now I just need to go to the library and find something more about this Dinozzo guy," said Dean yawning. He took his jacket and the Buick's keys, he was turning off the lights when he sighed and with a shudder said " It's not the same, hunting, isn't even fun without you, Sammy."

Snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsns

"Hello, gorgeous. I'm doing research for the Eureka news about a local gangster and I need all you can find about a guy called Anthony Dinozzo and a cabaret called Nightmare," said Dean with his best smile, resting an elbow in the librarian's desk.

The librarian was a petit old lady with huge glasses and a cane. "Dinozzo you said?. I knew him, he was a bastard and a murderer "said the old lady with fury in her voice. "He was the owner of half this county in 1930, a liquor smuggler. Had that cabaret where girls, liquor and gambling were easy to find. But he was a twisted bastard, after killing his local rival he started liking the blood taste and their clients and girls started disappearing, even his family mysteriously disappeared. Then I don't remember what happened but he was caught by the police and killed."

After saying that the old lady started typing on the computer and said, " Sit down, I'm gonna give you all we have about my cousin Anthony." Dean eyes went huge listening all that. What kind of freaking maniac did he have to face this time? And what was more anguish, alone. He sat and a few minutes later Agnes, the old librarian, gave him old newspapers and a bunch of books.

"Have fun," she said and left Dean alone. After a while Dean managed to get the entire story about the gangster and his cabaret. Anthony Dinozzo turned his cabaret into a horror house where he tortured and killed hundreds of people. He just asked their victims about their worst nightmares and made them live them. If somebody told him that he was afraid of spiders, Dinozzo locked him or her in a box full of thousands of spiders. He was so proud of his art that he hired a cameraman to film him while he was torturing their victims. After filming all his show he killed the cameraman and tried to convince the local theatre manager to show his film called "Your worst nightmare".

When the manger watched the movie he called the police and they managed to catch him after a furious fight. He was shot and while he dying he shouted to the police that he was going to come back to kill every single inhabitant of this county. Dean was trying to find where Anthony Dinozzo was buried when he heard Agnes talking with a tall, dark haired man in his middle 30´s.

"Sir , this gentleman here says he's from the Weekly World News and wants to research about that bastard Dinozzo too. Could you be so kind to share the books with him?"Dean's hunter senses exploded the moment he saw that man.

Snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

"Hey Sammie!! Are you there?…of course you are. You can't run away, you can't hide, you are mine and I can do whatever I want," said Akitar with a maniacal laugh."Hey!!! Wake up stupid!!. We are almost there. It gonna be so funny, you'd love it. Cynahl planned it very carefully. It gonna be quite a great show. Dean won't have any chance at all. He won't know what happened till its gonna be to late to escape" and Akitar laugh fill Sam's brain with terror.

"Oh God! Please let Dean figured the anagram out or he's gonna be dead in a week!" cried Sam.


	10. Chapter 11

Dean gave the man an odd look. "Of course I can, Agnes" said Dean raising a brow.

"Great, I hope you two make awesome reports" said Agnes, leaving them alone.

The man gave Dean a huge smile. " Hi! I'm Jack Daniels and I'm a reporter for the World Weekly News."

"World Weekly News?. Don't you mean Weekly World News?" asked Dean suspiciously.

"Oh yeah, World, I mean News…I mean ….crap! Sorry man, I'm new. This is my first assignment, you know," Jack was sweating.

"If you say so. Can I ask you a question?" Dean equested.

"Shoot."

"How long have you been hunting?"

"Hunting? I'm not a hunter. I'm a reporter at the News..crap!"

"Well, Mr. Reporter, tell me since when a reporter needs a Glock in his waistband and a shotgun under his armpit?" asked Dean finding this conversation a lot funny.

"…."

"Not to mention that you don't have a notepad or a laptop."

"errr….." Jack was feeling a lot awkward.

"And that you have in your hand a pink, floral and perfumed piece of paper that match exactly with the one Claire give me two hours ago." Dean was enjoying so much torturing this man.

"I…I'm not….. Ok, I give up, six years now" said Jack with sad eyes.

"Dean Winchester" said Dean and offered his hand to the stranger.

"Jack Russell" said that man squeezing Dean's hand. "I can't believe I'm in front of one of the fierce Winchester boys."

"Fierce? We are adorable," laughed Dean. "So, when did you meet the girls?"

"An hour ago. I met Claire outside Sammie's house and when I started asking about this spirit she told me about the ghost hunter she's met. Some research and here I am! Can I join you in this hunt?"

"I don't usually work with people I don't know well…"

"Oh!…… I understand," said Jack disappointed.

"But as I'm on my own for a week you can help me if you want."

"Sure!!!" said Jack almost jumping in joy. "You guys are legends in the hunting world. Can I ask you why are you hunting alone?"

Dean's eyes filled with tears, but he changed to his "everything is all right" mask in a second. "A chick, my brother is with this hot chick and you know two are company but three's a crowd."

Both laughed, but Dean's laugh was almost a cry.

"So, what do you know so far?" asked Dean.

They exchanged information for a couple of minutes and then started researching. Jack was almost as geek as Sam and that made Dean blue. "In five days Sammy, hang on" thought Dean.

After an hour of hard work they managed to get all the information they needed.

Anthony Dinozzo was buried at the Leroy Jethro Gibbs cemetery lot 43A.

Dean was happy hanging on with Jack. He was smart and easy going and he hoped a good hunter too.

"So," started Dean "who's going to do the dig, salt and burn and who's going to be with the girl?"

"As you wish. You are the expert here."

"Ok. I'll dig and you´ll entertain Tony."

They spent the rest of the afternoon in a small bar drinking beer and telling each other their exploits. Jack was a newbie at this job but in his few years hunting he managed to kill a lot of nasty things. He started hunting after a beauty-stealing witch killed his fiancée two weeks before their wedding.

After a few weeks of mourning he started researching about this weird illnesses that make young ladies look like a 10,000 year old mummy in a week. After a year, ollowing the few leads he could find, he had tracked down the witch responsible and killed her and a new hunter was born.

"So… my Dad and I were at this black dog lair waiting for it and suddenly a six year old Sammy walked in wearing his Spiderman pajamas and his blanket telling us that he needs to poo….." they laughed so hard that Jack almost fell from his chair.

Beer followed beer and Dean and Jack bonded. Dean had never had a friend in all his life beside his little brother and his dad, so many miles on the road, so many hunts and too many secrets cut all Dean's dreams of having a normal life. It might be because he hated being alone and he missed Sammy and John but he felt like he could trust in Jack.

Before dawn they were at Dean's hotel room picking weapons and planning the hunt.

"So, you stay home with Kendra…."

"And you dig, salt and burn. I got it the first time Dean. Are you sure you don't want the funny part?".

"It's gonna be a nice night, dude, and I'm feeling like digging," said Dean, the truth was he needed to know if he was up to do this kind of job.

It was 12 o'clock, Jack was at Kendra's room after emailing her. He was sitting in her bed trying to make her laugh with little success.

"Are you sure you're gonna kill him? You swear he won't hurt me?" asked Kendra sobbing.

"Positive, beauty. Don't worry, my friend Dean is the best ghost hunter in all the world. He really knows what he's doing" Jack tried to comfort her but it was a lost job.

Dean was walking with the spade in his shoulder and the torch in the other hand looking for Dinozzo´s grave.

"Gotcha!" said after a while. Anthony Dinozzo grave was ruined, covered with grass and almost demolished.

Dean knelt on the ground. "Show time!" he said and drove the spade in the dirt.

In Kendra's room everything was silent, an extremely tense silence. Lights off, Kendra looked like she was sleeping and Jack was in the corner shotgun at ready, waiting.

After ten minutes of digging Dean was exhausted. He was sweating, covered with dirt and panting. His heart was pounding too fast, so fast he could feel it in his ears, so fast it hurt. " I can't give up! I can't give up!" Dean repeated shoveling. " If I give up Sammy dies!. If I give up Sammy dies!"

At Kendra's everything was chaos. As Kendra worst nightmares where about snakes, her room was filled with them. Kendra was standing on a chair crying and Jack was trying to kill them with his hunting knife but it was useless.

Hundred of snakes were moving, fighting with each other, twisting, trying to bite Kendra and Jack. Jack caught something with the corner of his eyes, a human figure laughing. As soon as Jack put his full attention to the figure it disappeared.

"Tony!, Tony! Come with Jacky to play a bit," said Jack sarcastically. And Tony showed up, or sort of. A dense mist with an ugly, vicious laughing face appeared. Tony appeared and disappeared making Jack circle around his spot in the room and forget the snakes.

The snakes, sensing this lack of attention, started biting him and Kendra, twisting around their legs and going up trying to bite and suffocate them.

Jack forgot Tony for a moment and ran to help Kendra with the snakes. He tried to cut the snakes heads but he realized that if he cut off one head three more grew.

"We are so screwed. C'mon Dean!!" said Jack and in that precisely moment Tony decided to start playing with Jack.

Tony appeared by Jack side and vanished. He touched him in the back or in the face and disappeared. And then the pain started, hot slashes in the face and torso, extremely painful, they last only a few seconds but left Jack in agony.

Dean was in agony too. Panting, on all fours, trying to catch his breath, trying to make his heart rate slower, trying to make the chest pain vanished, trying not to pass out.


	11. Chapter 12

authors notes: i´m soooooooooooo sorry pals , i know i´m a bad person and i update once a year. I recently became a medical doctor and my life is a chaos. I hope i could update more often..i will try with all my heart.

All my love to the few readers i still have.

"Fuck" shouted Jack after another cut appeared and disappeared in his torso. "What are you doing out there Dean?"

After cutting several snake's heads Jack took the phone and called Dean. After what seemed to Jack a lifetime a very rough and faint voice answered.

"Yeah?"

"Dean? Jack here, what happened? Did you finish digging? Are you ok?"

"I'm trying!" shouted Dean and closed the cell phone.

Dean was shivering quite hard. Hot tears crossing his face. He had given up digging a few minutes ago. Now he was laying in that hole trying to focus on breathing and staying conscious but he was failing in that job.

He closed his eyes for a moment. He realized that his heart wasn't pounding like before, now it barely jumped in his chest. Dean was exhausted and breathing with short, shallow puffs.

"_C'mon, Dean! Sammy needs you. Jack needs you. C'mon you can rest later. That it's, open your eyes, stand up and grab that frigging spade and finish the job. After you save Sammy you can die all you want, I promise",_ he told himself. That small voice inside Dean's head was right, what was he doing? Since when couldn't the great Dean Winchester finish a simple dig, salt and burn?

Dean weakly opened his eyes, trying to stay focused_. " C'mon I can do this. For God sake I've been digging, salting and burning since I was 7 years old. This job is a piece of cake!"_He sat on the ground shivering heavily._ "C'mon, I have to help Sammy…err…Jack"._

With unsteady legs Dean stood up, all the world dancing around him. "Okay, Dean…now digging," he said aloud. With each spade full of dirt he felt he was dying. With each spade full of dirt his will became stronger but his body weaker.

By the time he found the coffin he was moving only by will. His body was numb, he couldn't feel it anymore.

With a loud crack , Dean broke open the coffin. " I got you sucker!" shouted Dean just to remember he was still alive.

"I don't think so" said a voice right in front of Dean.

Dean blinked a few times and finally saw him or it. A dense, black mist with a crazy face looking at him. "What do you think you are doing ?" the mist asked.

"Finishing you, you bastard" yelled Dean, searching for a match in his jacket pocket.

"You're gonna love hell, plenty of fucking psychos like you to play with!"

"You gonna visit it first!" shouted the mist and sent Dean flying several feet back. Dean landed head first in a bunch of leaves.

"Ouch! So you want to play a bit? Let's play then sucker!" shouted Dean. With strength he didn't know he still had, he started running like mad, face twisted with fury through the tombstones.

"Don't be silly, boy. You can't win," laughed Tony and cuts started showing on Dean's face and torso.

"Don't you dare to cut my pretty face, psycho!" Dean was full of adrenaline, jumping from tombstone to tombstone trying to reach Tony's grave to grab his shotgun and finished this nasty job.

Tony was having the time of his life chasing Dean, making him fly, smashing him into the trees or tombstones, cutting him….making him suffer.

And Dean was jumping, running, trying to forgot about his bad heart, damaged lungs, the cuts covering his chest and face and most of all the hole in his heart because Sammy wasn't there helping him, reminding him why he had to live, what his mission in this hard life was.

Dean was by Kate Todd's tombstone trying to catch his breathe, calculating groggily how many feet away was from Tony's grave when suddenly someone shouted, "Leave him alone!!!"

"_Sammy? Sammy!!"_ thought Dean opening his unfocused eyes, trying to get up for a better look at the boy a few feet away.

"Dean, stay low!" shouted the boy. "You sonofabitch, come here and fight with someone who can fight back!!"

A blast from a shotgun was heard.

The dark mist disappeared in a second and reappeared by that boy's side with Tony's killers face twisted in hate.

"Who you think you're talking to, crappy boy? I'm the great Tony Dinozzo, I've killed thousand of people and I can smash you whenever I want!" yelled the mist and started cutting that boy's face and torso.

"Dean, Dean…are you ok? I gonna distract this psycho for a while and when you feel up to finish the job…." the boy wanted to say something more but was cut by Tony's fury, blood running from all over his face and chest, head connecting with a near tree.

"Sam!! Sam!!. Sonofabitch, I'm gonna kill you, nobody messes with my brother!" shouted Dean. Running forward he suddenly fell into Tony's grave. He got his shotgun and started firing without thinking, without seeing, just trusting in his guts and instincts.

"Sammy! Talk to me! Are you all right?. Sam?" The desperation in Dean's voice was deep, his voice cracked with emotions never spoken, his eyes filled with tears.

Dean pulled himself out the hole with the shotgun at ready. He could hear the fight far away but not see a thing because of the tears, the dirt in his eyes and the exhaustion.

"Hang on, Sammy! I'm gonna help you!" Dean yelled. He started pouring the salt and the fuel in the grave.

"Sayonara psycho" Dean said with a grin, sending a match flying into the grave.

In that moment all Dean's adrenaline run out his damaged body. He fell to the ground with a thud. His chest was burning, his heart barely pumping. He knew in that moment that it was the end of his road. That he couldn't free Sam.

He had failed.

But Sammy had come to help him. His Sammy…his Sammy was there to help him.

That was his very last thought.

The boy who has helped Dean knelt by his side touching Dean's arm carefully and with pity in his eyes.

"Dean?….Dean?. Talk to me man!….Dean?…I'm Jack , Dean……DEAN!!!!!!!!!!!!"


	12. Chapter 13

**author´s notes: I´m terribly sorry for being such a bad person and don´t update often ...being a newby doc is such a crazy thing...almost a torture sometimes!!!!!. I´m working at a small hospital, far away from my home and without computer or tv!!! I know pure agony!!!!, so I hope you enjoy this chapter and I hope i could update in march or april.  
**

Sam remained silent, trying to hear what was going on. His body was in a car outside another little town. Akitar had cold blooded another poor soul and with some kind of goblet was speaking with a higher demon.

"Master Cynalh, everything has been planned as you wish. The hunters will fall in a deadly trap and they will never know what has happened." A contemptuous laugh followed

"Shake, shake, shake. Shake and move it, shake and move it.!"

Someone was loudly singing some nasty disco song from the '70's and that was something Dean couldn't forgive easily. His eyes fluttered for a while trying to gather enough strength to open. He was laying slumped against the window of the passenger door.

"For Christ sake Jack! Stop singing that shit. I've told you that in this car you can only listen and sing classic rock!!"

"Sorry Dean. I thought you were sleeping" Jack replied, turning off the radio.

"I was," Dean growled, yawning. " How far away are we?"

"Just a few hours. Sleep again, you really need it," Jack said, casting Dean a worried look.

"I told you a million times that I'm okay."

"You are not, Dean. You almost died in my arms a week ago."

"Almost is the key word" said Dean with a smirk in his face.

"This time, this time you lucky bastard," Jack was furious. How could Dean love himself so little? To Jack, the memory was still had so fresh of what had happened in that stupid cemetery and the days that came after that cruel moment when for a second Dean stopped breathing. How this cuckoo boy could hide to the world the fact that his heart wasn't working well!?…wasn't working at all!!.

Dean told Jack about his heart condition only a few days ago after Jack became crazy with Dean being a stubborn ass for the millionth time after the cemetery hunt. Jack offered to take Dean to the hospital as he saw him become weaker and weaker, his breathing obviously more difficult. But Dean just said: "We need to go to Wolverine, we have to go to Wolverine."

And he just kept walking, kept breathing, kept living.

A few days after the Dinozzo´s hunt when Dean tried to run after a thief that tried to steal his car and collapsed on the ground, Jack asked Dean why he was killing himself, pushing his body so hard.

"Because of Sammy" answered Dean with tears in his eyes.

Dean told Jack all the sad stories of how Sammy became possessed and he became a totally mess. From that moment Jack swore to help Dean and from that moment Dean started calling Jack, Robin or sidekick boy. He could be dying but he would never lose his sense of humor.

"Listen Robin, I've been thinking about the moment we arrive Wolverine. I think we should trap Sammy inside this kid's house and then I'll chant the exorcism ritual while you keep him calm."

"Stop calling me Robin, Dean. That could be a great plan but how are we gonna make him enter the house and keep him inside long enough to catch him?"

"Why do I have a sidekick boy if he can't figure out a lame plan?" said Dean, laughing.

"I hate making plans. We'll figure it out as the things develop."

"Are you sure you don't have Japanese blood in you? The word kamikaze ring a bell for you?"

"Haha" said Dean, with a nasty glare. "Let my drive, Cheeta."

"Cheeta?!! Cheeta!?"

"You told me not to call you Robin any more" answered Dean with innocence in his eyes.

Three hours later the two hunters entered Wolverine, an extremely small town, but what they found in it would change Dean's life forever.

"Let's eat something," offered Jack and parked the car outside the_ The Ill Cat Road Café. _

Jack started talking and walking to the main door but he soon discovered Dean wasn't by his side.

"Dean?. Dean? I know you like old cars but we really need to eat something and start planning…"

"That's not an old car, THAT´S MY BABY GIRL!!" Dean was memirized by a 67´ black Chevy Impala parked a few cars from theirs.

"It can't be Dean . She was totaled …don't you remember?"

"That's my girl! I can recognize her anytime, anywhere! AWWWW, sweet girl" Dean cooed and started hugging and kissing the car. " How'd you find me, clever girl?"

"Maybe because she was with me all this time, boy."

That was a frigging familiar voice talking to Dean…it was…it was…

"Bobby???" asked Dean, raising his eyes from his beloved car for a second. "Bobby??"

"Right here, boy!" said Bobby and grabbed Dean in a tight hug.

Dean was shocked. What was going on?

"Bobby!!! You old dog, what are you doing here? What happened to my car? Weren't you hurt? Where's Dad? How do you know about Wolverine…"

"Hey, hey, hey. One question at a time. First of all , Dean, you look like crap." Bobby watched Dean carefully, noting how pale and thin he had become, the huge dark circles around his clouded green eyes.

"And you are as ugly as usual!" Dean snapped back, still shocked with this vision in front of him. Bobby and his baby. Was he dreaming? Was he dead? Was he completely crazy?

"Well, about all the questions you have…I know someone who could answer them better than me," with a short movement of his right hand Bobby invited Dean and Jack inside the café.

"What the fuck?" thought Dean and followed Bobby inside.

It was a dirty old bar with the craziest furniture and curtains ever. Pink curtains with little green teacups on them, thousands of small pictures of cats in every wall, fluffy blankets over red square tables.

Dean has been in lot of crapy hotel rooms and bars but nothing like this. He couldn't hide a smile when he entered it and his brain was already thinking cat jokes when he saw him.

Sitting at the furthest table from the door having some caffeine. Old looking, bearded and with sad eyes, there was his Dad, John Winchester in person.

"I think I'm really dead and in hell," said Dean out loud, frozen in his place by the door. Bobby pushed him and Dean started walking zombie-like towards his Dad with astonished eyes.

"Hello there son" said John raising a hand, nervous, not knowing quite well what to do next.

"Dad? Am I dreaming? First my car and now…"

"No, son, you aren't dreaming," cut off John . "It's answer time. Please take a seat."

But Dean didn't sit down. He walked to his Dad and gave him a huge bear hug.

"I'm so sorry, Dean" whispered John in Dean's ear. "I'm so sorry." A few tears straggled down his tired cheeks.

After what seemed to be an eternity both men sat down. John couldn't see at his eldest eyes. He was too ashamed to do that.

"Dean, first of all I owe you an apologize for abandoning you but when I finish my story you'll know the truth and that your father was always by your side."

Dean has forgiven his Dad the second he saw him but there were tons of issues to talk about, so he let his Dad continue with the story.

"I'm gonna tell you my story now and you'll realize that my story is your story too. When I was at the hospital some kind of demon entered my mind and took it over. It made me think in a wrong way and it made me do things that I truly reject like leaving you and Sammy. A few days later I met Bobby who was fixing your Impala as a get well present and he realized I was having this thing talking in my head all the time and making me doing stupid things. He performed some kind of exorcism and then I could think properly again.

I was at Bobby's healing and fixing your car when I got Sam's phone call about you being abducted. I called all my contacts and we started looking for you but no one knew where you were or who Pete was. Then I lost all contact with you two for a while. I thought you two were dead and I almost lost my mind.

Bobby found some kind of information in Seattle that sounded like the yellow eyed demon does so we went there. That's when a doctor called me. The police had found you in a pretty bad shape. Thank God that doc was a fellow hunter and made all the arrangements with a couple of old hunters, Martha and Fred to pick you up and gave you a place to heal, meanwhile, I did some research on my own. But you left the hospital earlier and those two folks had to chase you for all over the county!!

So, when I confirmed you were in good hands I started looking for Sammy. And I hunted him for all over the States but that demon is a clever one and I always arrived too late.

You were in such a bad condition that I kept you far away from the hunt and the information. I went to visit you a couple of times but you were so out of yourself that you didn't realize that I was there. I gave you false information and I surrounded you with hunters to protect you. They followed you to any place you went and they informed me of every single movement you made. I knew about any cough, any pain you have, any word you said, any painkiller you take…..everything. But again you left .

One day after chasing Sammy for two hours with Bobby I realized that if I want to help Sammy I would have to exorcize that demon and doing that I surely would kill my son. So I started researching about alternatives ways of exorcize a demon without hurting Sammy.

Someone told me about this ancient race of hunters that came from Rumania. They've been fighting demons for centuries now, so I contacted them and they showed me a way. But it isn't an easy way. The person who performs the ritual has to have pure love, unconditional love in his heart for the person they want to save. And he must give his life for the other person.

This ritual kills the demon without hurting the possessed victim but also kills the person who performs the ceremony. So I decided to learn this ritual and made all the preparation needed to complete before performing the exorcism…"

"No DAD! Please don't do that!! I'll do the ritual…." cried Dean.

"Dean!" said John, with military voice. "I'm prepared , I'm ready and tomorrow I'm going to save Sammy….."

"And die…" thought Dean, with horror.


	13. Chapter 14

Dean listened to John very carefully but his brain was exploding with thoughts and crazy ideas. He couldn't make it stop.

_Am I delusional? Did I really loose my sanity this time? All this time my father was manipulating me? All what I lived was a lie?_ wondered Dean. Suddenly the twister of thoughts stopped as Dean heard something that turned his blood into ice, took his breath away, made his heart stopped. His father was planning on sacrificing himself in order to save Sammy.

"No, Dad! Please, don't do that" cried Dean, but was too late. His father had that kind of look in his eyes that screams _I'm so not going to argue with you about this kiddo_.

After an awkward moment when both men realized that they were equally eager to sacrifice themselves to get back Sammy, John Winchester spoke. "Dean, I made my mind up a month ago. Nothing you can say or do is going to change what I have chosen, you understand, son?"

"Yes, sir." Dean's world was falling apart. He has just realized how much his father had done for him, how much his father cared about him and Sammy and now, he was going to lose his only hope of getting his family back.

"I…I…figured out something, Dad" said Dean knowing he couldn't argue with his father about his sacrifice.

"What's that, son?"

"Sammy…Sammy…he…sent me an email with an anagram….he also spoke with me a couple of times."

"He did what?" questioned John raising an eyebrow.

"Spoke with me…you know… telepathy…well, in this email he warned me …warned me about Wolverine…He said it was a trap and that…."

Dean was sweaty and breathless. His mind was thinking so hard that he was consuming what little energy his body still had.

"Son?" asked John and rose from his chair concern for his eldest clouding his face. Bobby also stood up with worried eyes.

"I'm….I'm… .I can't… DAD?" Dean was extremely pale; his breath came in small pants, his heart racing at an insane speed. His body started to collapse.

Bobby and John were by Dean's side in a second, not knowing what was going on.

Jack, who had been silent all this time and sitting at another table ran to Dean's side, took a couple of pills from a bottle Dean had in his pocket and made him swallow them.

"Easy…easy, Dean…Come on, take the pills…try to breath… that's right, in and out…in and out … Take it easy…in and out"

John was watching the scene with stunned eyes. Fred had already told him about Dean's medical problems but he had hoped that they would go away with some Tylenol and a couple of sleeping hours. But now his son was….ill….Winchester men were always in danger. They had a long history of self-made stitches and casts, short visits to the hospital and nothing that some aspirin and scotch couldn't take away but that was beyond what any father could take.

"Dean? Open your eyes, son…please. What's going on, Bobby?" A few tears appeared in John's tired eyes.

"I don't know" Bobby was terrified. That boy was like a son to him.

"He's having an arrhythmia right now, you know, because of his heart condition. But I just gave him his medicine so we just have to wait… By the way, I'm Jack" Jack offered his hand to John.

"Jack? Who are you? How you know about Dean's condition? Where did you meet him?" asked John with bewilderment.

"I'm a hunter, we met on the road to here and Dean told me, you know, when he almost died last week" said Jack with half a smile. "Dean, open your eyes. Slow and easy….That's great. Are you feeling ok now? Do you need your inhaler?"

Dean opened his eyes but they were unfocused and glassy. His hands were on his chest as if trying to hold onto his heart. He could feel his father's hands in his hair and on his back and that comforted him. He spoke with a confused whisper. "I'm ok. Sammy."

John gave Jack and Bobby a confused look.

"He's always a bit disoriented after an episode like this." Jack explained. "Dean, I'm Jack, remember?"

"Jack, yeah… my sidekick boy" said Dean with a faint smirk. "Did you get the license number of the truck that ran over me?"

"Son, are you ok? Do you want to lie down for a bit? Should I call a doctor?" John was kneeling in front of Dean with his hands supporting Dean's head.

"I need a long night of sex with a set of frisky twins and a couple of beers, that's all" Dean lifted his head off John's hands. "Don't worry, I'm fine".

"Are you sure? If you can't fight, it's ok, son."

"I can do whatever Sammy needs me to do, sir," said Dean with fury and determination in his eyes.

"OK then…What were you saying about an anagram?"

Dean took a deep breath trying to leave behind his illness and focus only on Sammy and spoke "Sammy send me this to me" said Dean searching in his jacket pocket until he found a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to John.

" _**SARA MUDDTTES BY NOON, LOVE MISTER PANWIRA**_ "…and what is that supposed to mean?" asked Bobby confused.

"It took me a while but I figured it out…it says: Dean, Wolverine is a tra(M)p, trust nobody, Sam"

The four men stayed silent for a while thinking about those words.

"Well, Sam told me something similar in a dream. Don't worry, Dean, we are on full alert and came with a lot of company. Come with me," said John inviting Dean and Jack to leave the café.

They started walking to the hotel. Dean still pale and unsteady on his feet but his Dad didn't notice, he was in full Rambo mode right now. Jack was walking by Dean's side and from time to time gave him a comforting hand on the shoulder or made him stop to catch his breath. Bobby was walking by Dean's other side giving him concerned looks and when Dean had to stop for the third time, he passed his arm around Dean's waist and helped him towards the hotel.

Meanwhile, John Winchester was talking and talking, almost ranting, telling his elder son all his clever plans not looking behind him, not once.

"Son, this town is a hunter's town right now. We made all the inhabitants leave town and brought in almost 100 hunters from all over the country. All the signals made us believe that a huge war is coming and we thought the first fight is going to take place here. It's going to be nasty but I'm sure we can win. We have covered almost all the houses and farms in town. We are fully equipped and everybody knows that they can't hurt Sammy. He's only for Bobby, you and me….and Jack if he wants to help." With that last word John opened the main doors of The Healthy Cat Inn.

Inside the hotel were almost 50 hunters cleaning their weapons, making rock salt cartridges, and studying the map of the town.

"John" said one of the hunters. "We are ready."

"Good, good" said John clapping that man's shoulder. "This is my son, Dean, and another fellow hunter Jack. Son, this is JD. He's the one in charge of the arms and ammunition."

JD was a tall black man with huge muscles everywhere and a monumental army tattoo on his arm. "Nice to finally meet you, Dean" said JD smiling.

"Sure" said Dean. He had put his 'I'm a completely healthy good-looking bastard' mask in place. "So, JD, what's the big plan for tonight then?"

JD gave Dean a bigger smile and started sharing all the nasty details.


	14. Chapter 15

_**author´s notes: hello? anybody out there? anybody reading this? ok, just the crickets and me then. ! 1or 2 chapters more to go and then hasta la vista baby!!**_

It was 10 o'clock in the evening and the town was completely empty. Not a single dog wandered, not even a cricket could be heard. All the lights of the houses of the town were off, all the doors and windows were closed and protected with salt lines. All the houses and farms had devil's traps painted on the ceilings.

A great tension filled the air, turning it unbreathable.

And everywhere hundreds of hunters with protective charms around their necks were hidden, waiting.

Suddenly a cold breeze invaded the town, turning quickly into a hurricane of wind, leaves and hate. The hunters could see nothing, not even their own feet, but still they were on full alert, waiting.

Then the wind disappeared and an evil laugh exploded, overriding the tense silence. It was a maniacal, distorted laugh that iced the hearts of the hunters. Some of them grabbed their charms or blessed crosses and began to pray.

The war was beginning. It hung heavy in the air and not everybody would be alive to see the next morning's sun.

The evil laugh ceased as quickly as it started and then, they came, hundreds of them. Men and women walking with evil smiles, with hate etched on their faces. And in front of them all, leading the way... Sam Winchester… in the flesh.

Dean bit his tongue to keep from shouting out Sam's name.

The evil group came to a halt in front of the hotel main doors.

"John Winchester" shouted Sam. "We know you are inside there. We know you have some friends hidden in the town. We know all your plans." Sam paused in his speech, laughing a bit. "But we have some aces up our sleeves, too".

Sam spoke with a dozen or so boys and girls in their twenties. They all nodded and formed a circle in the middle of the street, each one chose to look at a different building. They all closed their eyes and then it happened.

Happening so quickly, no hunter could stop it. In every hunter's mind, playing out like a mini-movie visions formed, showing them their worst fears, their biggest mistakes, all their darkest secrets, all the innocent deaths they couldn't prevent. All this accompanied by the worst pain anyone could imagine.

The hunters were all twisted in pain and regret. Some of them were crying and shouting, begging for forgiveness.

John's worst fear was actually happening right before his eyes… Dean, mortally ill and Sam, leading a bunch of demons against humanity. He was one of the few hunters who could still think clearly and act. So… he acted. He started reciting the powerful ritual the Rumanians had taught him. Once John started his powerful, prayerful chant, all the hunters regained control over their own thoughts and were once more free to follow their plan. John's words could be heard throughout the entire town, amplified by the voices of 50 more hunters doing the same thing.

Dean wasn't reciting the chant however because he was the leader of a second group of hunters, the one that was going to initiate the face-to-face battle against the demons. They were all armed with shotguns, rock salt, flasks with holy water and other blessed items that made them demon-killing machines.

The demonic group in the street started shouting and crying in agony as the ritual words increased in intensity. A blue glow came down from the sky and floated above the evil people's heads and in that moment Dean's group made a huge circle around the group from hell.

Dean positioned himself in front of Sammy, waiting for the ritual to end, wanting to take care of his baby brother.

But suddenly Sam stopped his painful movements, looked directly into Dean's eyes and addressing his brother and father, said "Ooops!. Sorry… Not working, Dean. John, my people and I aren't possessed anymore. We chose to follow our leader to our destiny. We are Cynalh´s army against the world and I'm going to be the king when humanity disappears and demons rule the world."

And after saying that Sam shouted "C'mon, people. Let's kick some asses!"

Jumping to Dean's left side, with one vicious sweeping kick Sam knocked Dean's legs from under him. Dean was too stunned to even react and he fell to the floor and that's when the real war began.

Everywhere people were fighting. The psychic kids with their abilities were making the hunters suffer big time. A few hunters blew their own brains out with their own shotguns after some malevolent, smiling boy suggested they do so. Other hunters were literally flying across the street, tossed easily through the air, crashing through the windows of houses where the furniture then collapsed on top of them.

Another few were being choked to death by invisible hands, while even less fortunate ones were being attacked and beaten viciously by the psychics, who now possessed super human strength.

After seeing the ineffectiveness of the ritual, John and Bobby had joined the fight in the main street, shotguns at the ready, throwing blows and punches everywhere.

Dean was still on the ground but he hadn't had time to think of what was happening around him because Sam was kicking him in the stomach with such a fury.

Dean curled into a ball protecting his head with his hands trying to catch his breath.

"Sammy, Sammy" he finally said.

"DON´T …( _kick in the stomach)…_ CALL… ( _kick to the chest_)… ME ( _kick to the left shoulder_) …SAMMY!" Sam snarled viciously. After saying that last word he stepped with his feet on Dean's right knee and a big pop! was heard everywhere.

Dean screamed so loud that his father heard it and started running to Dean to help him but was intercepted by a super strong guy, who tackled him to the ground.

Sam was grinning maliciously, his army was winning this first battle. He would be the king of the world, the master of the universe.

Dean was lying so still and silent that Sam knelt beside him to check for a pulse. In that moment Dean connected with a powerful upper jab to Sam's chin, making him stagger, his head spinning, white spots dancing in front of his eyes. Dean connected another punch to Sam's nose causing it to bleed profusely.

Dean struggled weakly to his feet, a bit dizzy, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead and another on his left cheekbone, fists balled up tightly at his sides, at the ready.

Sam was on all fours spitting up blood, blood that formed a little river between his nose and his chest.

"C'mon Sammy!. Wake up. You aren't a king! You're my little brother, the one that has a clown phobia."

"You don't know anything. You are only dirt, garbage. A stupid soldier just trying to make everybody happy but yourself, Dean! You are disposable. You are so pathetic that the Yellow-Eyed-Demon who was targeting first born kids hasn't even thought of you" growled Sam meanly, before pushing himself to his feet.

"Someone needs a hug" said Dean with a smirk.

Sam roared, full of hatred and anger, and with one quick move charged towards the injured Dean as two things happened almost at the same moment.

First, Dean sidestepped quickly to the left, grabbing Sam around the middle, throwing him hard to the ground. As Sam's head crashed into the pavement, Dean swung himself into a sitting position on Sam's torso, pinning him beneath him. The older hunter shouted "Christo!" pouring holy water onto Sam's exposed face. Sam's eyes turned black under his eyelids and smoke could be seen curling above his wet skin.

But as Dean was going to shout to every hunter still alive in the street, to warn the men that these creatures were actually demons, the second thing happened and destroyed Dean's life forever.

As Dean lifted his eyes to shout the new information to everybody he saw his father not so far away from him. He was standing looking directly at him with a proud smile in his face, blood dropping from his mouth and right eye.

Dean could feel the love in that look, a love, that words could never describe. The love that Dean so desperately needed... That love that made him feel useful, powerful, important.

They stayed looking at each other for a minute and an eternity at the same time.

But then Jack appeared behind John and broke the special connection that father and son were having. Dean looked down to his unconscious little brother before once more lifting his eyes. He waved a quick greeting to Jack. Jack waved back to Dean with his hand and then he did it…. He started strangling John with his bare hands with evil, delighted eyes and an extremely happy face.

John was trying to push Jack off of him with little success.

Dean stood up in a hurry not believing his own eyes and tried to run but his right knee protested painfully. He started limping towards his father, shouting at Jack to stop, crying out his father name, calling out for Bobby or anyone for some form of help

His father had started trembling, his face turning scarlet and then a mottled blue. Loud gasping could be heard even from a distance. The fighting however was so intense in that moment that no one but Dean could see what was going on with his dad.

Jack was laughing, as happy as a little kid in Santa's toy factory. He saw Dean coming gave him a big smile and shouted. " Deannie boy, Deannie boy, come play with me."

When Dean heard those words, that voice tone, he froze in his tracks. He could recognize that voice any time, anywhere without doubts or second thoughts. That was Pete's voice, the voice of the man that had kidnapped and tortured him. The voice of the man that had taken his little brother and turned him into this monster... The person that made his life miserable. And that man had been by his side the entire time. That man had given all the data to the enemy, that man was responsible for all the deaths from this battle and all the deaths caused by his little brother. That man was THE enemy and now he was killing his dad!

"Pete" Dean shouted, pure hatred in his voice.

"100 points to the limping guy over there!!. Finally you got me, Deannie boy! All this time I had to bite my tongue, to not tell you who I really was. I know you have nice memories about me and the time we spend together at the garage. Oh boy! The time flies so quickly, don't you think?"

"Stop, you bastard!" As Dean pushed himself limping towards John's side, his heartbeat was speeding up way too much. He felt lightheaded and he was sweating profusely. _No damn it! Not now!!_.

"OH! Sick boy at 12 o'clock! Deannie, are you feeling a bit bad? Do you need a hug? Or maybe you need your heart medication?. What you think, John?"

John was lying still on the ground. Purple circles around his closed eyes, red splotches all over his face and Jack's handprints tattooed onto his neck.

"Oops! I think Daddy can't play with me anymore. 0 points to the man choked to death. So, what were we talking about? OH yeah! Your heart pills, the ones I took earlier and destroyed." Jack laughed so hard that he had to put his hand over his belly.

Dean was exhausted, his muscles weren't cooperating, his heart barely beating. He collapsed to the ground, shivering. He hadn't enough energy even to keep his eyes open. All he could do was shout. He shouted until his voice become raspy and his throat ached. He shouted in vain.

When he thought everything was lost, he saw him… Bobby, his second father, his eldest friend was running to John's side. Jack couldn't see him because he was kneeling, pinching John's nose with his fingers, trying to finish the job, laughing in pleasure.

Bobby tackled him to the ground and started beating Jack with a deadly fury. Jack threw a few weak jabs but Bobby was so pissed off that nothing could stop him in that moment. Bobby slammed Jack's head into the pavement until blood and brains appeared. Then he put his shotgun to Jack's head and pulled both triggers.

That was the very last thing that Dean saw.


	15. Chapter 16

**Authors notes: sorry it take me so long to write and post this last chapter, real life sucks and i also got mono from a nice patient...I want to thanks all the people who read this or lurked and the great , few people that left a review...so many thanks.**

Bodies could be seen everywhere at a warehouse in Wolverine. The casualties had been

too many for both sides, possessed and hunters. JD was trying to identify some of the

badly damaged bodies, trying to match complexion and body type with a book of

pictures of missing people from all over USA. JD was crying, that huge and muscular

man was devastated thinking of all those families filled with hope still at home, praying

for the return of their loved ones, wondering what they had done to make their sons

or daughters run away from home. All those people would never hug their loved ones

again, evil forces had taken them and made them to live a hell on earth and now they

were all gone forever..

Some others were preparing the bodies of their fellow hunters for the cremation

ceremony and that wasn't a pleasant task either. Death could be felt by everyone,

like doom. The madness of the demons was still there, in that city, floating in the air,

living in everyone's mind. Crying people chanting prayers could be seen by each dead

body praying in different languages but the feelings were all the same, plain pain.

In another room of the warehouse a little hospital had been set up and there was Bobby,

slumped in a chair hopelessly shedding tears, wasted, his heart filled with pity, his

soul in shreds. There he sat in despair beside a hospital bed listening to a beeping

monitor, trying to gain some courage for the hours to come. After 15 minutes of deep

thoughts he finally sobbed one last time before he stood up like the warrior he was, the

last man standing, the only one that could finish the job.

He approached the defeated body in that bed, he couldn't look at the peaceful face, it

was just too painful. Once he was nearly his family now it was only a dead body. He

kissed the eldest Winchester on the forehead and pulled up the sheets to cover his face.

He turned to the right very slowly and shut off the monitor. In his mind the past played

like a familiar movie, a montage of his battle against his possessed wife and the

moments he had spent with the Winchester men. A few more tears fell from his sad

eyes, he once again had failed. He had let that damn demon win, he had let down his

wife and his friends. The only thing he could do now was to finish the job.

He walked slowly towards the hotel where the demon was, hoping to finish that little

problem but he suddenly stopped, standing still for a moment before he turned quickly.

He had heard something behind him

.

"What do you think you are doing?" Bobby asked in a raspy voice.

"I have something to finish like you do, Bobby, but for me this is personal."

"Go to bed, Dean, you heard the doctor, you can't…."Bobby stopped speaking because

he realized it was a waste of time. Dean looked wrung out like a mop right now, pale

as a dead body, a black eye, two rough cuts in his once baby face held shut with home

made stitches, deep purple shadows under his furious eyes. He could barely stay

standing but the determination and anger in his eyes could kill the bravest man in

seconds.

"But…" Bobby stammered, "Oh damn! I'm fooling myself here if I try to stop you

now. It's your family, your fight…OUR fight. Let me help you to finish this"

When Bobby finished saying that he could see how relieved Dean was, as if an

enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could read the gratitude in

Dean's eyes.

Bobby put his hands on Dean's shoulders and said "Boy, this damn demon killed your

dad and took away your brother but you are not alone, I'm here for you. I'm part of the

Winchester family too. I'm going to help you in everything you need and every time I

can. You don't have put on an act in front of me, kid. I know you, I really know you,

Dean."

Dean slumped forward and rested his forehead against Bobby's shoulder and started

crying silently. "I lost them, Bobby. Mom, Dad, Sammy…all gone and I didn't do

anything to stop it."

"Hey, Dean" said Bobby with a firm but tender voice. "You are a great kid. You

fought all that your body allowed you and more. You did great work and your Dad

was extremely proud of you…and about Sam….he's not dead."

"WHAT??" exclaimed Dean, lifting his head from Bobby's damp shoulder,

"You…you told me that the demon escaped to another, healthier body and that Sammy

didn't make it…You told me that Sammy's body was in another warehouse

and…and…" Dean started to tremble and became more and more pale.

Firmly Bobby took Dean by the shoulders, "Listen, Dean. I know what I told

you. The doctor said that maybe you wouldn't make it… that if you tried to be a hero

again you maybe wouldn't see the next sunrise …so I lied to you. The doctor said he

would fill you full of drugs to make you feel more comfortable and to allow your body

and heart to take a break…I suppose you didn't take them, did you?….I had this crazy

idea in my mind that maybe you might want to live until your next birthday!".

"Don't you dare try to stop me Bobby, don't you dare" said Dean with a nasty, crazed

glare. "Where's Sammy?. Where's Sam?"

"I 'll tell you only if you promise me that you are going to allow me to help you."

"Bobby!. Where's Sam?!" shouted Dean.

"Promise me you're gonna let me help you, boy!"

"Last time I'm asking you this… WHERE´S SAM?" Dean face was red in fury.

They stood face to face like two boxers before the first round.

"It's my brother, it's my little brother…please! Where's my Sammy?" big hot tears ran

down Dean's cheeks.

"Let me help you, Dean. It's my Sammy too. You two are my family, boy" Bobby's

voice was a sweet whisper.

"Okay," finally agreed Dean.

Bobby put his arm around Dean's back and helped him to limp to the hotel where Sam

was. Sam was chained to a chair in the middle of the main room of the second floor of

the hotel with Devil's trap painted on both the ceiling and the floor beneath him. Four

huge hunters were standing guard over him.

Bobby and Dean entered the room like two warriors on a mission.

"Hello, Dean" said Sam with a sinister sneer.

"Hey there, Casper!. Were you a ballerina before you become this queer demon?"

said Dean, as he threw some holy water in Sam's face.

"Your brother is shouting inside me. He wants me to tell you that he loves to be a bad

guy. He loves to rip little kids out of their skin, you know?. He laughs all the time when

I do that and asks for more victims. He loves blood and gore," the demon taunted.

"Oh, I don't think so. He cried like a baby when we were watching Sixth Sense at the

movies, " laughed Dean.

"He's telling me that he wants to be free to command his demon army and kill all the

humans on this disgusting planet," it responded.

"I doubt that. He's a big emo, you know, the kind of person that doesn't walk on the

grass because if he stepped on a little ant and kill it he would run to his bed to cry for a

day or two hugging his teddy bear. He's a bit fluffy but a great kid."

"Enough" shouted Akitar. " You are more annoying than your brother!"

"Thanks" answered Dean with a proud smirk. "So, this is the situation right now. You

are inside my little bro' and that pisses me and this nasty hunter beside me off so much

that we want to send you back to hell with a kick to your evil ass. So, you can go to hell

voluntarily or we will have to play bully with your sorry black mist. You decide."

"Dean, I thought you were more intelligent than this. You know that if I leave this body

your brother will be dead in a second. He can't survive without me," said Akitar with a

devilish laugh and a maniacal facial expression.

"Something you don't know about my brother is that he's a big college geek, he's the

smart one, you know. And we have been in touch all these months without your

knowledge. So together we found the solution for this awkward situation." Dean

smirked.

"That's a lie!!" shouted Akitar "I know every little secret and every little thought in

Sam's mind."

"Well, that's…what Sam lets you think," said Bobby, laughing so hard that he almost

fell to the floor.

"What's so funny?" asked Akitar worried.

"Let me explain this to you, Akitar," said Bobby as he dragged forward two chairs

for himself and Dean. "You shouldn't have fooled with the Winchester family, boy.

They have friends, very powerful friends. When you possessed Sam he contacted us

immediately and told us everything you did, about everyone who talked with you…

everything."

"And with a lot of very useful details" added Dean.

"So we thought up this great plan…" continued Bobby.

" Great plan because it was mine" said Dean proudly.

"Yes…Yes…As I was telling you, Dean thought up a beautiful plan and…"

"You could have a plan but we win," interrupted the demon inside Sam. "We killed

John and lots of other hunters. My master, Cynahl, is going to govern this planet in no

time."

"We have lots of painful casualties , that's right, you made a lot of nice moves

but…Have you talked with your master lately?" asked Bobby playfully.

"Er…er…"

"Let me help you with this, smart alec. While you and your friends were fighting

against us, a bunch of powerful Romanians were summoning your master, Cynahl.

Thanks to some very lovely information Sam gave us and well… your master is now a

beautiful splotch on a Bambi painting. I saw it… Bambi, Thumper and a red spot with a

nasty attitude…..lovely" said Dean mocking.

"So, now you are all alone" said Bobby firmly.

"But I have this body and you know you're gonna kill Sammy if you send me back to

hell."

"We can always try" said Dean and stood up slowly with a tired expression on his face

and unconsciously put his hand over his heart and made a pained face.

Bobby was on his feet in a second trying to catch Dean's arm to give him some help but

Dean gave Bobby a 'don't you dare stare', so he relented and started chanting in Latin.

Sam started to twist and scream. Dean was worried but tried to stay put and not let Sam

down. Suddenly Sam cried " Bobby! Bobby! It's me Sam, please stop this, you are

killing me!"

"Please!" Sam's voice begged.

Bobby had a second of doubt and that second was enough for Akitar to send Bobby

flying across the room, smashing his head into the wall

.

"Bobby!" shouted Dean but didn't move an inch from his place. They had imagined

that Akitar would do something like that.

"Well, well, Dean. Now it's between your broken, pathetic body and me" and saying

that, Sam stood up breaking the chains, shouting furiously. The two Devil's trap blew in

small pieces that hit Dean in the face and torso.

Sam went running into the corridor of the hotel, as Dean shook off the debris and ran to

follow after his possessed brother chanting in Latin. Dean pushed a button on his cell

phone and 40 hunters including Missouri received pre-recorded text message with

Dean's last orders. Immediately they all began chanting the Latin exorcism ritual with a

picture of Sam in their hands.

Sam screamed and shouted in pain, his head filled with all those voices chanting in

Latin. He ran and ran, charging up the stairs.

"You will never have this body Dean, never, never," the demon within Sam snarled.

"You can send me to hell but I'm gonna jump from the roof and your brother will be

smashed upon on the street. If I can't have him, then neither will you!"

At that moment Dean tackled Sam and they tumbled down the stairs and fell to the

second floor landing. Sam kicked Dean in the face several times but Dean never stopped

chanting or throwing punches.

Sam stood up with his nose bleeding profusely again and a blackened eye, nearly

swollen shut. "Stupid, pathetic human," he screamed as he shoved Dean over the

banister. Dean fell two floors to the basement, the noise reverberating like thunder and

then…silence.

Akitar was grinning, he and his army had killed two Winchesters in the same day. He

started walking happily downstairs to the first floor but then he felt the worst pain ever.

In his head the chanting were extremely loud and fast and a now a new voice, clearest

and loudest of all, joined the others… Sam's. Sam was chanting the Latin exorcism

ritual, marking every word with hate.

In that moment, Bobby with a nasty bump on his head tackled Sam. Despite his injuries

the old hunter took him down, punched him several times, finally tying him up and

poured holy water all over him. Then he began to set up some kind of herbs, candles

and a statue making a circle around Sam.

"Sammy, if you can hear me, this is the moment when you have to sing the other ritual

spell" said Bobby.

Sam shouted inside Akitar's head the other chant but Akitar screamed, broke all the

ropes and started choking Bobby.

"You frigging bastard. It's time for you to leave my body," said the real Sam, as he

shouted the last phrase of the additional chant.

Sam's body started shivering and trembling. Sam opened his mouth and a huge black

cloud began to writhe and seethe as it left his body, dancing across the ceiling before

exploding in yellow sparks.

Everything was deathly silent in that Wolverine hotel. Sam was lying on the floor with

blood dripping from his nose and right eye, both his eyes closed. Bobby was sitting on

the floor with his back curled and his head hanging. And Dean was….Dean was half

walking half dragging his damaged body through the corridor. One hand on the wall as

support the other on his heart. Limping, dragging himself or crawling it didn't matter,

his only objective was to reach Sammy, to check on him.

When Dean found Sam he let his body fall to the floor by Sam's side, half sitting half

slumped. Dean was exhausted, he could barely breathe, his body ached everywhere, his

soul tortured, his heart wanting to give up pumping. His only desire… find Sam alive.

With one hand he pulled Sam's body to him and put his Sammy's head up against his

chest. Then he looked for some kind of signal of a miracle.

"Sammy…" Dean murmured in a faint, cracked voice, a river flooding from his eyes.

"Sam," he repeated a bit louder this time. "C'mon Sammy! C'mon!. Wake up Sam.

SAM!!" he finally screamed hugging his brother's head.

"Dean… you are suffocating me" whispered a faint voice.

"Sam!!" Dean took his brother face in his hands and looked at him. His eyes were

half closed and he was a bit blue but the huge smile that Dean found on Sam's lips was

priceless. "Sammy…" said Dean tenderly. "Sammy…" Dean couldn't stop crying but

this time the tears he shed were tears of happiness.

"Dean, Dean! Remember no chick flick moments, please…" laughed Sam.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

They stayed in that position for a few more minutes, both with their eyes closed, just

enjoying the moment and the happiness of having each other.

"Dean?"

" What?" Dean's voice was only a whisper.

" Are you all right?" Sam was worried.

" Now I am." Dean's voice was so faint that Sam had to make a real effort to hear it.

" Dean! You aren't ok. Let's me see…" Sam with a lot of effort knelt beside Dean and

now, it was Sam who was hugging Dean's head.

"You looks like shit" Sam cried almost hysterically.

"If you had fallen two floors to the basement and then stood up and crawled up two

flights of stairs to kiss your queer bro', of course you would look like shit, genius. I'm

tired that's all."

"Bullshit, boy. I told you, the doctor said you shouldn't play hero no more but you

wouldn't stay put" mumbled Bobby grumpily from the corner, before adding, "Sam,

I'm glad you are okay."

"Thanks Bobby. I completely forgot about your heart condition, Dean!. You need a

doctor right now!"

"Stay there with that stubborn idiot, Sam. I'll get one for you, boy" said Bobby giving

Dean a soft kick on the leg. "Stay with your brother, be a nice kid". Bobby gave Dean

and Sam a concerned look and headed down the stairs to get a doctor. It was just silence

for a couple of minutes.

"Hey… Dean?"

" ummm……."

"Stay awake, please?"

"Okie dokie"

"How do you feel?"

"Excellent. I was thinking about a night at a bar with some hot chicks, what do you

think?"

"Maybe later."

"Boring."

"Dean!"

After a few more minutes of silence Sam asked. "Is Dad dead?"

"…I…I couldn't save him, Sam…. I'm sorry…"

"Don't say that, Dean, it's all my fault. I'm the one who was possessed and..."

"Don't you dare to say it's your fault, Sam. You did everything you could to kill that

frigging demon. I was the one who should had looked after you and Dad and…"

"And nothing, dude. You are sick, you need to rest and allow your heart to heal. Don't

think like that. You are the bravest hunter I have never known and Dad was so proud of

you, I'm proud of you. You are my hero."

"That's ...that's …so gay" laughed Dean.

Both men stayed in silence.

"Dean, we have to burn Dad's body, you know."

"Yeah."

"Where's Bobby? Why is he taking so long?. I'm going to check on him" Sam stopped

hugging Dean and tried to stand up but Dean's arm didn't allow him.

"Please, Sam. Stay with me a bit longer."

Sam was very worried. That wasn't something that Dean would say normally.

"You sure you are ok?"

"I'm tired Sam. I just want to stop. I want to stop. I can't take it anymore."

Sam took Dean's face between his hands and said "Don't give up, Dean, please. Don't

give up now that we are together again," Sam was crying.

"I'll try, Sammy, but it's so hard. I'm just so tired. I don't like this world anymore."

"All you need is some time off work, dude, and everything will be ok again. We can go

to a cabin somewhere and stay there for as long as you need. No more huntings for a

long time, buddy."

"Promise me"

"Promise."

With that last word all the colour on Dean's face disappeared and he stopped breathing.

"Dean!! DEAN!!" Sam started CPR right there crying and shouting.

"DEAN!! Please don't leave me!! Don't leave me here alone!! Please. I need you

dude. I need you!! C'mon. C'mon!!"

After a long time Sam finally stopped the CPR and hugged Dean's body, "Why? Why?

I know I wasn't the best brother, but…why did you want to leave me alone?? Why?

Dean!! I need you…"

"Maybe because you are too gay…" a small whisper could be heard.

"Dude! I so hate you!"

" Me too, but face this, you can't live without me, I'm irresistible."

Sam laughed like a maniac and punched Dean lightly on the nose.

"Last time you die on me or I'll kill you," Sam promised.

"Dude, shut up! Trying to have a nap here,"

_**the end**_


End file.
